


Pulling Pigtails

by KittyinShadows



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Damian Wayne, Coming Out, Creampie, Enthusiastic Consent, Growing Up, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Pining, Porn With Plot, Self-Indulgent, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Stalker Tim Drake, Teenage Crush, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Wet Dream, no beta we die, no sex until Damian is 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyinShadows/pseuds/KittyinShadows
Summary: Damian was eleven when he first heard the phrase pulling pigtails, in one of Grayson’s inane TV comedies, running in the background.Damian was fifteen when he woke up with soiled boxers and the phantom of Drake’s lips slipping from his brain....Fuck.Or: In which Damian grows up, comes to terms with his feelings for his former rival turned cordial ally, and might have a chance with his crush after all.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 167
Kudos: 747
Collections: Best of Fanfiction





	1. Growing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! So I recently rediscovered my childhood crush on Dick Grayson and while I was at it discovered all these other wonderful characters. I haven't read any of the comics, nor am I likely to, but I have read all the fic for the pairing I could palate. I've picked and chose what canon I like from various fic and the wiki's. I'm not sure where exactly this fic is going, just that I want them together. suggestions welcome, and if anyone wants to beta for me lmao lemme know <3

Damian was eleven when he first heard the phrase pulling pigtails, in one of Grayson’s inane TV comedies, running in the background. He put it into the mental catalog he had been building, titled "don't understand and therefore unimportant". It had many similar such turns of phrase and references, including many things Drake said, like referring to a foe as "a Klingon on roids". He had not told Grayson about this catalog because he would get a sad look in his eyes, and try to claim it important. But Damian was confident in his complete lack of bias.

—·—

The second time he heard it was when he was thirteen. The boys at his table in social studies were not his friends, but they were less rude at least. Only 1 was Caucasian, and they did not look at him askance or make cruel jabs towards his origin or way of speaking. Not that he was bothered by that happening! It was simply that one must take advantage of allies where they come. They sometimes included him in conversation, were not entirely useless in class, and they did not seem to mind when he didn't talk.

The rowdier of the boys had accused another of "pulling her pigtails" whilst jabbing his ribs with two fingers. The other had strangely enough flushed red, and said "I am not!" just a touch too loudly.

"Methinks you doth protesteth too much" the first had snickered and then the topic had been dropped, leaving Damian context less and perplexed.

When he was still annoyed by lunch, he went to Ms. Avery's office. Ms. Avery was his teacher his first year at Gotham Academy. His first day she had taken him aside after classes. Her cousins, she explained, had moved here from Israel when she was young, so she understood the difficulty of moving to a new country. If he had any questions about America he could come to her for answers, no judgment. Of course he had no intention of doing so, but she proved herself an adequate teacher with no patience for the boys who insulted himself and others, so he decided she was acceptable. He had utilized her knowledge on several occasions.

When she saw him Ms. Avery gave him a maternal smile, one which always made his chest feel peculiar, like the memory of an event which never happened.

"Hello, Damian," she said. "I hope your classes are going well?"

"Yes," he said briskly. "They are" stupid, pointless, beneath him, a waste of his time "adequate."

"Good," she kept smiling, and the way it actually touched her eyes was why he minded his words, though he would never admit it. "How can I help you today?"

He sat in the soft chair across from her desk. He was pleased to see it felt smaller than it had several months ago.

"What does the phrase 'pulling pigtails' mean?"

Ms. Avery wrinkled her nose. "It refers to when someone, usually a young boy, bullies or quarrels with someone because they have a crush on them.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Mistreatment will not attract a partner.”

Ms. Avery looked pleased with this response. “Yes well. I think the logic behind it is that young boys misinterpret their strong emotions to be hatred rather than like, or crave attention and don’t know how to get it. But personally I think it's just an excuse to not punish boys for their bad behavior.”

This was why he trusted her council. She explained the significance as well as meaning. He nodded and stood. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Damian,” she said as he turned to leave. “You haven’t been pulling anyone’s pigtails have you?”

He scoffed, raised his chin a bit. “Of course not,” he replied.

—·—

Damian was fourteen, and he hadn’t seen Drake in five and a half months. This was not to say Drake was not around. Though he was often with the Titans in San Francisco, he still lived in Gotham, in his Wayne Tower penthouse. He still worked at WE in R&D. He still patrolled as Red Robin. He had even seen evidence of Drake’s presence in the Cave and Manor. Their paths simply had not crossed. He was...pleased with this. Surely. After all, he had worked hard to put Drake into his proper place. This avoidance was a sign of his success. Surely.

—·—

Damian was fifteen and the avoidance had ceased. He had decided this was acceptable, as Red Robin was a useful ally. This was not to say they were friendly. They still squabbled, disagreed, and the few times they sparred, the hits were heavier than they needed to be. Damian was okay with this arrangement. Especially because now that Tim was back, one could tell…

Damian was fifteen, and he was _taller._ When they fought, or stood side by side, one could tell—Damian was a good inch taller, his shoulders now broader, and every time he noticed he was filled with a flurry of positive emotions. Pride, and victory, and this strange swirling satisfaction in his gut. And he wasn’t done growing. Alfred had been altering his costume every other month for near a year. Soon he would be Father’s size, and tower over Drake. And Grayson, Cain, Pennyworth, but for some reason that wasn’t as important. Soon Drake would be small under his hand and he shivered with the thought.

Damian was fifteen when he woke up with soiled boxers and the phantom of Drake’s lips slipping from his brain.

... _Fuck._

What is one supposed to do when you find yourself attracted to your adopted brother who is six years older than you and you tried to murder at least once?

...no really he wants to know. Because he had been avoiding Drake for 3 weeks now and no one had even _noticed_ , and that made him feel even worse. He hadn’t said a single word to Drake in _3 weeks_ , and the man was completely unaffected and god...that just _hurt_. He didn’t know what to do with this so he defaulted to the tried and true bat method of coping: denial and repression.

—·—

Damian was sixteen when, during an explosive argument with Drake that will leave him escaping to his bedroom if his roiling gut doesn't calm soon, he hears Jason's snickering from the sideline. "Pulling pigtails much?" is his comment, and despite being sure no one else heard him, Damian finds his fun faux anger turning into an aching pit of panic, humiliation, and rage. So in the midst of Drake's sentence, Damian stiffens, turns sharply and quickly moves to knee Jason in the groin.

He then exits the cave, face dark red, to the sounds of Jason's pained groans and Drake's sympathy hiss. He feels quite certain Todd learned his lesson.

Not two months later, he has his junior prom. He has no desire to go, but Colin and Alfred had been unsubtly hinting he should go, so he had decided to give in. Plus, maybe a date would help him move from this gross…. Attraction business. And when he told Grayson, his brother had gotten all starry eyed and said disgusting things about him 'growing up so fast' and 'following in my footsteps' he didn't have the heart to say the thought of sleeping with dozens of women turned his stomach.

Colin suggested a girl for him to ask, who wasn't a friend exactly but he… found tolerable.

The evening before the prom, as he lay in bed sketching, Titus across his knees, Father came to talk to him. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the wall, back strangely tense and hands on his knees. Damian quickly became uneasy. Father seemed to be ramping up for a 'parenting moment' and those were always awkward and pained.

"Damian," he said finally, "I know that I can't control your actions, Dick made that clear when he was your age. So I would prefer if you would… Be a teenager…. Here rather than elsewhere. You will have a driver if you decide to go to a party… Or Access to the cellar here. Just know you and… Louisa can come here for the night, no questions asked. Understand?"

There was a moment of pained silence before Damian spoke,".... Yes, Father. "

Father nodded sharply, setting a small object on the bed before standing and quickly retreating.

Damian was left, uncomfortable and unsure why this ordeal was necessary. He wasn't sure what Father meant… Until he picked up the object. It was a box of condoms. He dropped it like he had been scalded, and it tumbled to the floor. He left it there, suddenly feeling the need to wash his hands.

Did Father think… he and Louisa were _dating_? .... _Were_ they dating? Oh god, was she expecting they have sex? But they barely knew each other and did he even _want_ to have sex? And why couldn't Grayson have given this talk? Even if it would have been gross at least it wouldn't have been out of the normal. Grayson had told him when he first went through puberty that he could ask if he needed advice or protection. Wait, had Grayson been...gallivanting after his prom? Was _he_ why father felt the need for this talk? Oh it was decided, he was going to _thrash_ his brother when he saw him.

The prom itself wasn't bad. They all met at the Manor for some inane pictures, and Grayson, Father, and Alfred all seemed so emotional and proud and he could only thank whatever powers be that Ti—Drake wasn't there.

He didn't particularly like dancing surrounded by people he dislikes, but Colin and Louisa seemed to be enjoying themselves, and he could enjoy that. There was just this… Tightness in his gut, the question "What comes after?"

After, they had left the ballroom and sat in the back of a very expensive car, the partition closed, with a driver who wasn't Alfred to his relief. Louisa smiled at him, asked "so what do you want to do now? There's a few after parties we could go to, or something." Her knee poked through the slit in her dress, pressed against his own, and suddenly, before he even knew he was speaking, the words were out.

"I think I'm gay."

Oh fuck.

"I—I mean, it's not your fault that I am not… I don't mean to lead you on and—" Christ he was stuttering, he was Damian Wayne al Ghul and he was _stuttering._

Louisa cut him off with a hand on his knee. "Hey, it's ok." he let out a sigh. "Look I'm not... Mad or upset or heartbroken. You and I aren't dating; I'm not in love with you or anything. It's just a date to a dance. Relax"

He took a minute to run through a breathing exercise, un-tense his muscles, and when he opened his eyes again Louisa was smiling at him, kind and calm. And Damian didn't believe in luck but if he had… Well.

"Can I ask why you asked me, then?"

"I thought I might like both." He clenches his jaw. "I haven't—I haven't told anyone. Not even Colin."

"Hey that's ok. You know you can right? That it's ok? I mean I don't know your family but I know the Wayne foundation donates to all those LGBT youth centers and stuff, I'm sure he'd be ok with it."

"I—I _know_ he would, they all would, but it's just, I just."

"Hey, yeah, yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I get it. My sister, she has a girlfriend right now, and even though our parents are like, super democrats she still was super afraid to tell them. So it's ok if you don't want to, and I won’t tell anyone, but like… You could. If you want.

"Yes, I just… Don't want to have the discussion. They are all so… Embarrassing and unnecessarily emotional and it doesn't actually change anything so why does it even matter?"

“It’s your choice.”

They sit in silence. The tightness in his gut is gone, the pressure in his chest lighter. He’s said it, out loud. He had told someone, and it didn’t hurt anything.

“Still doesn’t answer my question of what now.” he glances at her, and she is smiling, kind but a little playful, similar to the way Grayson breaks tense situations. “We could go to one of those parties, pick up some guys?” She laughs when she sees his face of displeasure. “Okay, okay, no parties. Sounds like torture to be honest.”

And though he had never had any intention of taking his Father’s offer, he finds himself speaking. “Father said we are welcome to stay the night at the Manor, that we could help ourselves to the cellar. We have a screening room.”

“Sounds like fun.”

When they get to the Manor, Alfred greets them at the door with a smile and a “Welcome back Master Damian, Miss Louisa. Will you be needing anything? Master Bruce is asleep, and I’ll be off to bed within the hour.”

“Prepare the screening room, and get us some…” he glances back to Louisa, who mouths a word to him. “Wine.” She clears her throat. “And popcorn. Wine and popcorn. That will be all.” Alfred is wearing his ‘Damian is doing something age appropriate’ smile as he leaves them. Damian fetches some of Cass’ spare sweats, and leads them to the screening room. The house is quiet with everyone on patrol, but soon the room is loud as they make their way through several James Bond films, which Louisa is horrified he hasn’t seen. Through it they sip wine and eat popcorn, and at the end of the night he settles Louisa into a guest room and is asleep almost as soon as his head hits his pillow. He made a friend and confidant today, and he thinks he might like it.

In the morning, both Father and Grayson are present at breakfast, and clearly have some assumptions about him and Louisa. When father says to her, “It’s been nice meeting you, Louisa. I don’t know your family well but I do know they’re good people. You’re welcome in our home any time,” she snickers a little and nudges his foot under the table, clearly amused by their shared secret. She doesn’t treat him like an assassin or a vigilante, and for once it feels good.

—·—

Damian was seventeen when he had his first kiss. The boy was a local hero working with the Teen Titans on a mission, and he tasted like wind, Vaseline lip balm, and mango flavored chewing gum.

When he got home from the mission, Dick asked how Louisa had been doing, and Damian couldn’t help himself from a choked laugh, which continued until his lungs stung and Father, Dick, Brown, and Drake were all staring at him.

“Louisa is fine. Though we are not, nor have we ever been, dating.” The only one who didn’t look surprised by this was Drake. Figured.

“But you guys—”

“Are friends, who went to a dance together. We watched movies, drank wine, and she stayed the night in a guest room. What did you think happened?” He raised a brow, a small smirk on his lips.

Dick stuttered, and his family dropped the subject.

He could have told them, then. It would have been fine. Easy, even. But for the first time in his life he had a secret that belonged entirely to him, and he wanted to hold onto it for a while.

—·—

Damian was eighteen for all of 7 hours before he was walking into a high end sex shop. When the butch woman at the desk saw the birthday on his ID, she grinned a congratulation, and asked if he needed any assistance. He agreed, if only because he had been unwilling to do research on the Manor internet. He walked out forty minutes later, half hard with a nondescript bag holding lube, cleaner, a prostate massager, and a slender six inch cock which had reminded him of Drake.

That evening Alfred served all of his favorite foods, with Colin and all the family who were in town. Damian thought it all unnecessary, as he wasn’t the most friendly of people, but this was the first ‘Big Birthday’ since Drake’s 21st and that was 3 years ago. So he suspects Alfred had applied some pressure. Damian wouldn’t complain about receiving gifts and praise, however.

The dinner was nice. He spent a lot of it trying not to watch Drake. The way his head tilted with laughter. His tongue poking out a drink. The flex of his thighs when he stood. By the end, he was happy to be freed to his room, where he shoved his new purchase inside himself as soon as he safely could, and even still probably too quickly. He was so excited from the buildup, from the stretch, that it wasn't even halfway in before he was coming.

That was okay, though. He set his supplies aside, dozed for 20 minutes, and when he woke his cock was already half hard. He was still slick and open, so this time he just slid the toy right in, holding onto his quickly plumping cock with his right hand, until he felt the base of it meet his ass. He was so full that if he weren't so well trained, he might have cried. The stretch was delicious, and he felt like he could split down the seam like a pair of worn out jeans. He had never been happier to be gay, he decided, because this was everything. And as he slowly began to move the toy, the anxiety of its purchase was made moot. This was worth it, for the way his entrance tightened and relaxed against his wishes, for the depth no fingers could reach, for the lack of ache in his wrist, and most of all for the easy angle he found to absolutely pound his prostate. The second orgasm took much longer, and was so much better.

Another 20 minutes after that, despite his abs still twitching sporadically without his permission, and his dick sort of aching to the touch, he made himself come again. This time it seemed to stretch and stretch and stretch on, centered more on his prostate than his dick, and only a sad little spurt of thin cum was to show for it.

When he was able to move his body again, he moved to clean himself and the toy, his knees threatening to buckle. He set the clean toy proudly on the counter, because he was an adult and not even Alfred entered his room without him, and he _could_. And then he slept longer and deeper than he had in months. Maybe years.

When he got up the next afternoon, his backside was pleasantly sore, and he had to stand in front of the mirror for twenty minutes schooling his expression from lazy satisfied smile to its normal haughty scoff.

On his way to the kitchen for some late breakfast he passed through the dining room, and was stopped in his tracks. Father, Dick, and Drake were sitting on one side of the table looking constipated, concerned, and uncomfortable respectively. It looked like every time they had attempted to discuss their emotions. And across from them sat Damian's mug, filled with his morning tea.

Fuck.

"Has something happened to Mother?" was the first thing from his lips.

This seemed to startle them, in their own ways. Father's brow creased differently, Drake sat up straighter, and Dick jerked, waving his hands quickly. "No no no, nothing like that, everyone is ok, or, well, no one has died, it's not a superhero things, it’s more, well—"

"Damian," Father interrupted, "you should sit down."

He did so warily. "... Okay…"

Drake dropped a magazine in front of him. On the cover was a picture of Damian, in a hoodie and jeans, carrying an unmarked shopping bag in hand, with just the hint of a bright pink box sneaking out top. All at once, every muscle in him tensed, and suddenly the internal ache was no longer pleasant to him.

It was a picture of Damian exiting the sex shop the day previous. In bold words was the tagline “All Grown Up: Damian Wayne Spotted at Sex Store on 18th Birthday”

Fuck.

_Fuck._

And Damian had always prided himself on not acting like a normal teenager, but when he heard his father take a breath to speak he simply put his face in his hands and thunked his head down onto the table, and said “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

“Damian,” Father said in his ‘you’re being childish’ voice. That voice is usually directed at Dick.

“No.” he said.

“...No?”

“No. Father, I thank you for raising me and feeding me for the past eight years, but I’m afraid I have to flee the country.”

“Damian,” Father said again, with an exasperated sigh. “Pick your head up. Let's discuss this like adults.”

He slowly sat upright, but kept one hand splayed over his face, peeking at them through his fingers. “Fine. Say your piece.”

His father was a master of acting, of the poker face, but at that moment it was incredibly clear how uncomfortable he was, with the tense of his shoulders and strangely tight expression. “Damian,” he said for the third time, and _wow_ was Damian glad Dick had been the one to give him the birds and the bees, not that it had been necessary. “Damian. I. Hmm. I want you to know that if...pornography is the issue I _don’t_ look at you boys’ internet history. I learned that lesson when Dick was fifteen. So you don’t need to go purchase anything.”

“Father, _no_ , I’m not—I mean I’m very glad to hear that as I didn’t know but—I wasn’t buying trashy porn rags.”

“Ah. I see. Ahm. Dick?”

“Ok Little D, I just wanna start by saying that whatever you choose to do with your body is absolutely okay, as long as it’s _safe, sane, and consensual_ , and—”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” he exclaimed. “I’m not fucking, putting women on leashes or whatever the fuck you think is happening here. What the _fuck_ , Dick.”

“Oh. You’re not?”

“ _No_.”

“Oh. Oh, thank fuck, I did not want to have that conversation.”

Damian resisted the urge to slump further down the chair, beneath the table, and through the floor straight into hell. “Well if that is done, what’s your guess Timothy?”

“Oh I don’t care why you were there. I’m here to represent Wayne Enterprises and think of what we’re going to tell the public.”

"Oh." Ouch. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, buying lingerie for a girlfriend is probably the most acceptable. We could say you were buying a gag gift for a friend. Or, if we really want to turn this in our favor we could have you do a PSA on safe sex, make it seem like you were there for dental dams or something. But really I think we should just go with the first."

And hearing that, from Timothy, while he could still feel a deep ache in his ass, it turned his stomach. Before he could even think through the suggestion he was hearing himself say even more emphatically, " _NO._ "

They all looked shocked at his shout. He felt shocked too. He was backed into a corner, being told to lie about himself and even though he did that every day of his life lying about _this_ was just. He couldn't. So he kept talking, "I'm not going invent an imaginary girlfriend or teach people about safe sex when I haven't even—" He stopped, clenching his fists on the tabletop. His family's expressions were moving into concerned and confused.

"I'm gay" he said, clear and simple. "I was there because I'm gay. And I'm not going to lie about that."

He hadn't thought it possible to break his father's poker face, or Drake's. Apparently it was. Father looked like his world had just been tossed inside one of those cocktail shakers and violently mixed up. And Dick—

Dick was tearing up. Jesus Christ.

"Dami," he whined. "You know you could've—why didn't you—"

"Yes I know I _could_ have told you, yes I know it doesn't change anything blah blah blah et cetera et cetera. I didn't because it's awkward and uncomfortable and I'm not seeing anyone so I don't care about it right now. I mean look at Father, he's broken! He has to find a way to tell me he loves me unconditionally without expressing actual emotions. This _sucks_. "

Dick seemed placated. "Oh. Well as long as you know."

"Of course."

"I do." Father suddenly spoke up. "I do love you unconditionally. And I'm proud of you, and glad you could trust us, even if the circumstances are unfortunate."

He pretended this didn't make him happy. "See? It's all fine. Now you can stop calling me a lady's man and joking about Raven or my fans, and we can consider this resolved and not speak of it again. I will make a scathing twitter response to the article. Can I leave this room immediately?"

Drake glanced at the stunned Dick and Father. "Yeah, I think you can go." He said, making a shooing motion.

Damian took the permission and fled.

**Damian Wayne** ✓ _@Damian_Wayne__

Big shoutout to @gothamgossips for outing me to my family! I’ve always wanted to explain to my childhood hero big brother that no I’m not making women wear dog collars I just like boys

1:37 PM · 10 Aug XX · Twitter for Android

132K Retweets 654K Likes

**Damian Wayne** ✓ _@Damian_Wayne__

“As long as your being safe Damian” um excuse me I was spotted at a sex store? I was being forcefully taught about dental dams and the different kinds of lube by the butch lesbian cashier not have a clandestine meeting in a dark alleyway

1:37 PM · 10 Aug XX · Twitter for Android

**Damian Wayne** ✓ _@Damian_Wayne__

And before anyone comes after them they were fine with it it’s just awkward and awful and I didn’t want to talk about my feelings on genitals with my notorious Lady’s Man dad. But if it had been someone with a less awesome family being outed they could be in serious danger.

1:37 PM · 10 Aug XX · Twitter for Android


	2. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim isn't as straight as Damian thought he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback I've gotten omg. You fuel my author soul. Also made me feel a lot less quarantine depressed <3 Any misspelling in the text messages are intentional.

On the screen, Red Robin is swinging around a building, body in a straight, pointed line to cut through the air. He uses his body like a tool, his mind its wielder. Every movement and placement is calculated for the exact outcome he desires, and he always gets that outcome. The villain, in his spiderlike robotic suit, is clinging to the side of a skyscraper. He and Red Robin are exchanging blows, so high above the Earth that the gawkers below look like ants. Damian pointedly doesn’t think about jumping from those buildings to be caught in Tim’s strong arms. _Fuck_. Red Robin keeps flying in, bird that he is, to strike at the villain with his bo staff, only to swing back away again. His attacks aren’t doing anything, clearly, and the villain is smug and ecstatic. He shouts his cliche villainous lines, things like “You are nothing to the likes of me!” and “Accept your failure with grace, Red Robin!” 

But if Red Robin’s body is his tool, so are his friends. As the two continue to clash, a streak of light moves up the villains building, ending in Kid Flash (Tim’s Kid Flash, not Damian’s Kid Flash, and _god_ they need to invent some new superhero names) clinging onto the back of the villains suit, where he quickly opens up a back panel and yanks out some wires. Now defeated, the villain begins to fall, but is caught by Superboy (Tim’s Superboy, not Damian’s Superboy, _jesus christ_ ), before he could fall to the ground and crush several people beneath his 2 ton metal suit.

The camera immediately pans to another scene, where another villain is battling three newer additions to Tim’s team, whom Damian hadn’t bothered to learn the name two. A man in a suit like one of those holographic cards is wrapping his arms around the robots long leg and lifting. Superstrength? How cliche. As the robot is lifted, its underbelly is shown, and into the frame flies Red Robin, using the momentum of his swing to plunge a blade into the seam between panels. His grapple comes hissing back into its launcher as Red Robin slides down the belly of the robot, dragging the blade through electronic guts. As soon as he lands he is flipping backwards, out of the way, and the holographic man drops the enemy onto the ground where it lays, twitching. The crowd of people who really shouldn’t be there cheer, while holograph man pumps his fist and Red Robin flashes a victorious grin. And then suddenly, before the eyes of Damian and the thousands of people watching this news broadcast, he sees this: the holographic man grabs Red Robin by the shoulder, pulls him in, and kisses him. And Tim—Drake— _Red Robin_ kisses back. 

_Fuck_. 

  
  


Damian learned many things over the next week, in between fits of fury and horrible tightness in his gut.

1)The holographic man called himself Spectrum, because he can bend light.

2) Spectrum’s holographic suit was not a suit at all. The imbecile runs around in civilian clothes with a kevlar vest thrown overtop and just fucking bends light around himself as a costume.

3) Spectrum’s super strength isn’t super strength at all, he actually converted light energy into mechanical energy to lift the robot. And fuck, that’s cool as shit and Damian hated him for it.

4) None of the family was surprised by Tim’s kiss. No one even commented on it, besides Dick elbowing Tim and waggling his eyebrows, just like he did every time Tim had a thing going on with a female teammate. From this he could infer that Tim liking men wasn’t new, and that no one had ever bothered to tell him. Meaning either everyone knew since Tim was fifteen, or they learned in the first few years of Damian’s presence and pointedly didn’t tell him, likely due to the assumption he would use this against Drake. He could admit this was not an unfair assumption. What angered him, though, was that he had been out for almost 2 years now and _no one had bothered to inform him Tim liked boys too._

Which brought him back around to: 5) Tim liked boys. Tim liked men, guys, people with penises, people who identified as male, _boys boys boys boys boys._ Tim was attracted to men, of which Damian was one. He did not, however, like Damian. And suddenly his benign interest in Tim had a completely different context. Because no longer was it simply small fantasies or feelings which could then be packed away, out of the realm of possibility and therefore easily dismissed. Now it was in the realm of possibility, but _wasn’t_. 

Now he was having all these thoughts he couldn’t just pack away. On patrol he stopped a mugging and as he waited for the police he imagined Red Robin, swinging down to give him a congratulatory kiss. At home he saw the empty coffee pot and was struck with a vision of brewing Tim a pot, filling his mug with a kiss to the temple. He passed Tim’s office at WE and spent the rest of the work day wondering about the taste of his cock.

It wasn’t an issue though. Really. Not in any way disrupting his life.

_Fuck_.

It already had disrupted his life, though. The day he saw the broadcast he had returned to his room, and stared at a certain contact in his phone. Markus was a fellow son of the Gotham elite. Tim referred to him as “a spoiled, pompous rich boy”, Father said he was “well meaning, if a bit grating”, or, as Dick liked to say “just perfect for you.” He was mature enough to admit this was true. They definitely wern’t dating. They were ‘talking’, an modern courtship ritual somewhere between friends and dating. It was like how he texted Louisa, but with the addition of almost-flirting and mildly sexual shirtless pictures. 

As he lay in bed at 4 in the afternoon with all the blinds closed, swirling through yet another sexual crisis, he opened up Markus' contact. 

Damian:

_Something has happened_

_If I believed in God this would show me he is cruel_

Damian didn't speak like this to most people. He would never hear the end of it from his family. But Markus was as over dramatic as they come, and he would understand Damian's current suffering. 

Five minutes later his reply came. 

Markus:

_Omg_

_That's the most me thing you've ever said shit must be going down_

_Hit me_

Damian:

_The boy who caused my sexual awakening and I've thirsted over for years now but it was ok bc he was straight so there was no point dwelling and I could just put it out of mind. He is not straight. He is not straight and all our mutual acquaintances knew but no one ever told me and this is the worst betrayal I have ever suffered and my mother tried to have me murdered._

_And I do not know if I can continue to flirt with you now that I know I have even a fraction of a chance_

Markus:

_Omg_

_Ok im not even gonna touch that thing about ur mom, so ignoring that omfg u poor soul_

_Honestly go for it Dames like if u told me right now that Ian the captain of my sisters high school swim team likes guys I would be sucking his dick before you even got the "been nice talking to you" text_

_How did you find out???_

Damian:

_I saw him kissing a man_

Markus:

_Oh my goD_

_Are they together??_

Damian:

_I do not know. No one has even commented on it and I haven't seen him before and I cannot ask our mutual acquaintances because they will know I am into him and will tell him and then I will have no choice but to kill them all and flee the city_

Markus:

_Shit u right_

_U need some friends who can keep thier mouths shut_

Damian:

_I agree_

Markus:

_Ok so what's your plan??_

Damian:

_Lay in bed, fuck myself a few more times, and then beat the ever loving shit out of a punching bag_

Markus:

_Ok good short term, and I will definitely be keeping that image, but I meant how are you gonna bag him?_

Damian:

_Im not_

Markus:

_Oh dames_

_You poor, innocent fool_

_As your kind, benevolent now-friend, i shall help you_

Damian:

_That wasn't what i meant when i texted you_

_As long as it doesn't interfere with my life or make anyone realize I'm into him, fine, I will take your advice into consideration_

_But I'm not getting my hopes up_

Markus:

_Hey I'll take it_

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step one of Operation Make Tim Like Damian More: dress like a slut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this fic is going, so I'm just shoving every self indulgent trope into a little box and going with it.  
> Also I'm not including Duke or whoever the fuck Batwoman is bc I haven't read the comics and don't know shit about them?  
> Damian is kinda an ass to Tim about not knowing he likes boys, but I wanna be clear I don't think anyone should come out to anyone unless they want to and feel comfortable. Damian is just being rude bc he's a brat.  
> Roughly what Damian's wearing: https://twitter.com/kittyinshadows_/status/1245616156481744896?s=20  
> Enjoy <3

The first thing out of Dick’s mouth when Damian entered the dining room was “What the fuck are you wearing?” Then he seemed to realize what he had said. “Wait, no, I mean, um,--”

Jason, sat further down the table and leaning his chair precariously back and forth, had no such qualms. His cool facade was broken as he stared at Damian with raised eyebrows. “He means you look like a slut.” Dick made a choking noise. At the head of the table Father slowly lowered his newspaper, clearly not wanting to know, but unable to ignore it. Cass, his favorite sister in the world, didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. And most importantly: Tim finally raised bleary eyes from his coffee mug, only to land eyes on Damian and splutter his mouthful. 

The small, greedy lizard which lived in the recesses of his mind hissed a valiant _yessss_ before his logical mind beat it back down with a stick. This didn’t mean anything. But, if nothing else, this moment would provide him with much laughter through his days. Markus, the evil mastermind, popped out from behind him. “I think you mean he looks hot as hell, actually. I know, I know, I work magic.”

“Son,” Father’s voice was tight and uncomfortable. “Are you sure you don’t want to put on a shirt?”

“I am wearing one. I’m told it’s called a blouse, actually.”

“Your _entire midriff_ is showing.”

“And? I don’t see how this is worse than Dick’s disco phase.”

_“Hey_!”

“Is it...translucent?” Tim asked with trepidation. 

“Just a little!” Markus chirped, bumping Damian’s hip with a grin. “You know I still say--”

“I am six feet tall, I do not need heels,” he said firmly. He hadn’t been able to balance on them. But no one needed to know that.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see myself out. See you Saturday, Dames?”

He hummed noncommittally.

“I _said_ see you Saturday, Dames?” Markus squeezed his bicep tightly. It didn’t hurt him, of course, but he still relented. 

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent!” And then he was gone, letting himself out of the Manor.

Damian took a seat between Dick and Tim, making sure to splay his legs the way he had been taught. Everyone was carefully silent as they listened, until the growl of an expensive sports car could be heard driving away. And then everyone was speaking at once. 

“ _Dames?”_ Dick leaned toward him, eyes wide.

“I know I said he’s a nice young man--” Father had one had to his temple, his newspaper forgotten in his other fist. 

Cass snickered behind her hand, and Tim seemed to be mouthing ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ at his coffee.

“Good to see the demon’s as swayed by a pretty face as the rest of us--” said Jason.

“ **_Dames_ **??”

He waited until they were all once again silent, looking at him expectantly.

“I won’t be able to patrol Saturday,” he said finally. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you two got together?!” Dick exploded

“Oh, we’re not dating,” he replied.

Jason gagged. “I didn’t need to know that about you little man.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’re not doing that either.”

Dick waved his hands at him. “Wait, wait, wait. You _aren’t_ dating?”

“We ‘talked’ for a time, as you suggested, and resolved that we work better as friends.”

Another pause.

“What’s on Saturday?” Father sounded apprehensive. Damian was disproportionately pleased. 

“Well Gotham Pride, of course.”

“ _You’re_ going to _Pride_ ?” Tim interrupted. _Finally._ The broiling excitement he feels every time they argued reared its head in his chest. He felt a vile smirk moving his lips. 

"I don't see why everyone is so surprised. Aren't I known for my pride? What, aren't _you_ going Drake?" 

A beat of shocked silence. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tim snapped. 

"Oh nothing." For a moment he felt thirteen again, every word that left his tongue a carefully aimed dagger. "Just that Pride is such an important event for the LGBTQ community, especially in such a violent place as Gotham. High profile attendees lend it legitimacy and political clout. Even if they are just _allies."_ He paused for dramatic effect. "Or do you only kiss boys with a _mask_ on?"

Everyone stared at his, mouths slightly agape, eyes jumping between Damian and Tim. Even Cass looked surprised. 

Jason broke the tense quiet. "What the fuck is going on right now." 

"Perhaps I'm just a little upset that I spent three years avoiding the gay conversation and no one bothered to tell me I _wasn't even the first_ . I mean you were _there_ when I had to come out and not so much as an 'it's OK Damian, it's not just you'." 

"Why would you care about _my_ sexuality, you can barely stand me!" 

"-tt- I know I treated you badly when I was young, but I do not _hate_ you. And at least in this I could have used… An ally." 

Tim met his eyes, seeming a little calmer. "Then I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Honestly I didn't realize you didn't know. It's not something I really put much thought into." 

Hmm. Damian supposed he could accept this. "I suspect they thought I would attack you over it." 

Tim smirked a little. "Would you have?" 

"... I do not know. It was… Not something I put much thought into." He parroted. 

Jason butted in again. "OK so you're going to Pride. What's with the outfit?" 

"It's come to my attention that I am number ten on Gotham's Most Eligible Bachelors list, and they completely ignored my sexuality. Being gay may not be a personality trait but it is still a part of me, and I will not have it ignored because it is inconvenient for others."

"Lil D…" Dick looked like he might tear up. Again. Christ. "That was so eloquent. I'm proud of you for standing up for what's important to you. We all are. _Right_ , guys?" 

Tim and Jason gave awkward nods, Cass hummed an affirmation, and Father said, through a wobbly smile, "Yes. You're doing good, son." 

And while his words today had been carefully designed to start a confrontation, to get a certain outcome, they had still felt… Good, being spoken. And his family's support, if awkward, made his chest feel warm and cared for. 

"And about the shirt…" 

"You are the one who had a child with Talia al Ghul, Father. Are you really so surprised?" 

Father simply sighed. 

Before the discussion could continue, Dick nudged him. 

"So, Pride," he said. "Can I come with?" 

"Really?" It was Damian's turn to be surprised. 

"Of course. If it's important to you, it's important to me!" 

As his brother chattered, and Father grumbled, and the family went about their breakfast, Damian let himself smile. 

  
  


That afternoon, as he wandered away from the family discussing cases in the cave, newly joined by Steph and Barbara, Tim found him. He'd been about to get a snack when Tim entered the kitchen after him, sighing as he leaned against the counter top. 

Tim had always been as good a liar, diplomat, and actor as Father. Perhaps even better. But Damian could tell Tim had a hard time conversing with him. Once, years ago, Damian had heard Tim tell Alfred he didn't know what 'face' to put on to please Damian. How could he know his lines without a role? Damian knew this was his fault. And now he only got to see the wary, armored front Tim had built just for him, when he was greedy for any of Tim's 'faces' he could get. 

He and Tim stared each other down. Truthfully, Damian didn't know what face to use with Tim either, anymore. He'd never cared for acting the way he cared for knives. 

Tim broke the silence. "Look, it seemed like." He stopped. Huffed out a frustrated breathe and ran a hand through his hair. He began again, speaking slowly, like he was thinking as he spoke, "It seemed to me, earlier, that you wanted someone to talk to about," he waved at Damian's bare abdomen, like that was an adequate symbol of his sexuality, "stuff. And I know we don't get along great. But if I'd be easier to talk to than Dick or Alfred or Bruce then. I'm here, I guess." Tim's face twitched, like it couldn't decide on the proper expression, so it just settled on blank. 

Damian didn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure he could. There were a million words swirling around the back of his throat that begged to come out, ranging from a terrified _get out of my house_ to a much more involved _the way your sleeves are rolled up makes your forearms look like sex and could I suck your dick right now? Just a little? As a treat?_. But he could sense that this was a very important step in their dealings, and the wrong words could break it irreparably. So he let Tim think him rude while he sorted through the words for the right ones. When he spoke it was with the same slow, careful tone that Tim had used. "Yes," he said at last. "I would like that, I think." 

The effect was immediate. He had chosen correctly. Tim deflated with a relieved little sigh, the blank slate of his face cracking. Tim's lips twitched in a hint of a smile. For a moment Damian could see some of the 'face' Tim saved for Dick, Steph, Alfred, Kon; the face he saved for friends, for family. It made him feel disgustingly light, like the moment his grapple hooked on and he swung upwards into the air, weightless. He bit his tongue to keep those words in; his lizard brain had settled on _your lips are the perfect shade of pink_. 

"Awesome," Tim said. "Then whenever you want to talk just shoot me a text and stop by the penthouse. You all have the door code." 

He nodded back, took a sip of his tea and let the steam heat his face, definitely not a blush. Tim made his way back to the cave, but Damian took a detour to his room. He carefully locked the door and set down his mug, before throwing himself face first onto the bed, where he could pretend he wasn't making a muffled whining noise. Then he got back up and put himself back together and headed back to the cave to help save the city. 

Honestly, he was turning 20 in two months. Why did he feel like such a teenager?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Pride! Because no coming of age gay story is complete without pride.  
> I'm also on twitter @kittyinshadows_ and tumblr @kittyinshadows  
> I have no idea how to write Tim, so if anyone has any feedback lemme know <3


	4. To Think, To Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian goes to Pride, and tries to find the perfect birthday gift for Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some more smut my loves <3 I have not read the new teen titans or supersons, and I do not know any of these characters so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Pride was admittedly not his usual scene. People and laughter and noise and glitter and open affection for strangers. He found it wasn't too horrible though. Dick and Markus tried to convince him they should all sit on the Wayne Foundations' float, but he had vetoed that. Instead the three of them stood in the living mass of people on the sidewalk, and after the parade followed the throng down to the park for the festival. At some point a rainbow tote was shoved in his hand, and the people kept giving him _things_. Strings of beads, snacks of all kinds, flyers and ads and brochures, stickers, and a little waving flag. Ok, he could admit he was having at least a little fun. A lot of it was his friends. Dick and Markus seemed to be having a blast, and he just couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed when two beaming grins were sent his way. 

There was something about it though that just made him feel...good. There was a sense of community that he didn’t have often. He didn’t share the background with the Gotham elite that his father did, and he had ten years with the League of Shadows to separate him from the hero community. He would sometimes get this sort of feeling with Cass and Jason, but none of them were particularly talkative. But here were thousands of strangers who took him with open arms, not caring about his background. He didn’t have to _do_ anything, didn’t have to _earn_ a place in these peoples community; he just was. He found he liked it. 

At some point they were recognized by the reporter covering the event. “Richard! Damian!” she called when she saw them. The three made their way in front of her camera. Dick was in his usual tight t-shirt and jeans, but Markus some horribly rainbow ensemble on, and Damian was wearing just leather pants and suspenders, with golden makeup dusted along his cheeks,collarbones and abdomen. There would be no mistaking why he was here. 

He was lucky, when it came to shirtlessness. Raised as an assassin, he had been taught to dodge far before he had seen action. And what scars he did have could be attested to the 'car accident' Bruce had told the public he had been in before moving to Gotham. He was just one too-deep injury away from joining his family in the 'never bared in public' club. He should probably take advantage of it while he could.

“Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson. I’m so glad you could make it. How are you finding the today’s event?”

“This is my first Pride,” he began his preprepared spiel. “As a gay man, it was important to me to come be a part of.”

She smiled at his response. “That’s wonderful. Richard?”

His brother grinned brightly, “Anything that’s important to Dami is important to me.”

Damian couldn’t help his bark of laughter. “You’re having more fun than I am,” he teased.

“Hey!” Dick exclaimed. “That drag queen did her entire routine in five inch heels! That’s so impressive!”

Surrounded by happy friends, and happy strangers, he let himself smile.

—·—

There was a buzzfeed article. Dick showed him. It was titled “Five Times Damian Wayne actually smiled in public.” Two of the pictures were from Pride, the other three from the last seven years of public appearances. They had clearly been waiting years for him to smile in public so they could post the article. Dick laughed that this was a sign to smile more. Maybe he was right. 

—·—

Things between him and Tim had been...better, since their talk. Damian hadn’t gone to him for advice, yet, but it seemed like Tim could tell now that his verbal jabs were more for show than to actually hurt him. Their arguments still happened, but they felt less weighted. Once he even stopped by Tim’s office at work, insisting if they didn’t get lunch together then Tim would forget to sleep at all. Tim seemed pleasantly surprised, but not suspicious. Damian was pleased by this. He knew that Tim would never date him, of course, despite Markus’ best efforts, but he would be happy with the friendship they were slowly building.

—·—

At the end of June Damian went to join the Teen Titans for a few weeks. Ever since he had started his job with WE, it had been harder to get away for long periods of time. Father and Tim could get away with it, since they worked there for so long, in such a high position. They could just handle things from afar. But his position was a lot more...entry level. He resented that Tim got CEO at 16, and then moved down to head of R&D...but also he could recognize that Tim was, technically, a genius, and grew up in the business world and was altogether less likely to stab someone with a pen. So for now, until he ‘learned some business sense’ he was running around doing random positions and tasks for the various department heads, including relaying sticky note arguments between his Father and Tim. 

But for two weeks, Damian was using his vacation days to be free of that inanity, and beat the shit out of some low level villains with his friends. He was going to make the most of it, because soon he would be moving on to the Titans, and would have to work with a variety of new people. And some of his team would be moving on with him, but still. Things were changing.

When Jon came to pick him up, he was seen off by Alfred and Dick. He didn’t have an excuse to see Tim. After all, he was a grown man with a job and an apartment and a life of his own. He had seen Tim the day before, at work. Damian had poked his head into his office before he left for the day. 

“Tim,” he said. 

“Oh, hey,” Tim had answered, not even looking up from a blueprint.

“I’m going on a trip tomorrow. To San Francisco. I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“Awesome. Be safe.”

And that was it. He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping for. He couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. 

Jon flew them to the Tower, the flight spent shouting at each other over the wind about what they had been up to. When they arrived, he was welcomed with a significant amount of pizza and a video game tournament of the one (1) game he had agreed to put any time into. The trip was fun. He was happy to see his friends again, and they seemed happy he was acknowledging all of them as friends. They teased him about his Buzzfeed article, while at the same time congratulating him for going to Pride. And they kicked ass. Kicked some bad guy’s asses, of course, and kicked each other’s asses. 

Throughout everything there was superheroes second favorite activity: gossip. Gossip about other superheroes of course, but also about their civilian lives, and sometimes even villains. Naturally, Damian offered nothing. He was not so naive as to think he would get away with this. The Titans worked under a similar system as elementary school teachers; volunteer, or they will volunteer you. His day was coming. For now, however, he had other worries. Every day Tim’s birthday crept closer, and he had no idea what to do for it.

—·—

Chill air slid over Damian’s heated skin. Ribbon tied his ankles to the bed frame, keeping his legs spread wide, and his wrists were tied together above his head, complete with a little bow. His face was pushed into the pillows, where he did his best not to whimper. His hole kept twitching, empty, slick, and greedy. 

He didn't know how long he waited like that, twitching and desperate , but he was hard the whole while, cock leaking into the sheets. 

Eventually, he heard the window open, and the sound of someone climbing inside. A shuffling noise, and then Tim's voice: "Hello? Is someone here?" 

"Tim," he said, voice breathy. 

"... _Damian?_ What are you doing here?" Footsteps, then the sound of a light switch being flicked, and a gasped, "Holy shit." 

"Happy birthday, Tim." 

Muffled cussing sat below the sound of belts being unbuckled, zippers being pulled, and equipment falling to the floor of the penthouse. When Tim finally touched him, it was with a still gloved hand sliding down his thigh. He moaned helplessly into the pillows. 

"Is this my gift? Fucking you, doing all the work?" Tim's voice was low and growling, like all the times they had argued. 

"I've been bad to you," he breathed. "Let me make it up to you. Use me as long as you want, as hard as you want, however you want." 

"Oh I will," and Tim's fingers _his gloves are still on oh fuck his gloves are still on yes_ slid past his entrance. Quickly, without warning, they thrust all the way to the knuckle. He felt full, but still not full enough. Then they were gone, but he didn't have time to cry out because Tim was already laying atop his back, bare skin to bare skin, fucking into him. There was no pausing to adjust, and asking how it felt. Instead, Tim began to fuck roughly into him, bruising his insides, setting his nerves afire. It was everything he'd ever needed. Tim bit into his shoulder, and oh god oh god, he was—he was—

—he was waking up. 

Fuck. 

He quickly brought himself off, and was left to wallow in his own fluids and guilt. 

Somehow, he didn't think that gift idea would go over so well. 

—·—

It appeared his time avoiding gossip was up. When he entered the common room, his team was all sat around, waiting for him. One seat was clearly meant for him, in the center of the group. He decided to be contrary and sat on the floor. 

“So, Robin,” Beast Boy began with steepled fingers, looking like the villains they so often defeated. “The council has noticed you haven’t been forthcoming with the deets. Is there anything you want to share, or are we going to do this the hard way?”

He pretended to think about this. “The hard way, please.”

The hard way wasn’t actually all that hard. When he was much younger it had involved being held down and tickled, or prank warfare, but now it just meant they would openly ask all their invasive questions, and they could tell when he lied. Topics ranged from his job “Tedious and dull,” to Gotham’s rogues “Harley and Poison Ivy had quite a nice wedding,” to if he had any new friends “One. His name is Markus.”

This, of course, pushed them onto the most dreaded topic: romance. 

“Are you into him??”

“We flirted some. But we are now friends.”

“Friends who~~?” Beast Boy waggled his eyebrows.

“Friends who are friends. No benefits, just friends.”

“Ugh, lame.” The group groaned.

“But there _is_ a guy, right?” pressed Wallace.

“No,” he said quickly, too quickly, and the group swung their gazes to Jon.

“He’s lying.” Goddamn nosy superhearing best friend. The group looked back to him, this time with laser focus.

“Ok, so there is someone I find...attractive. But I am not pursuing it. I simply wish to be friends with him. I do not know how to make this happen.”

"Just be friendly, get to know him,” Wallace offered.

He leveled a blank stare at him. Gestured to his being. 

“Okay, yeah, but he doesn’t have to _know_ you’re an asshole.”

“He already does. I was not...kind on our first meeting...or many after that.”

“...of course you weren’t.”

Jon smiled encouragingly. “Hey, if you know him then you’ve got somewhere to start. Common interests, important events, mutual friends?”

“His...birthday is coming up, within the next few months,” next few weeks, but he wasn’t going to give them that much data, “I want to get him something, but it cannot be _too good_ or too little.”

His friends burst into chatter.

“Oh, a birthday? Easy!”

“There’s always alcohol? Buy him a drink!”

“Oh, concert tickets! Take him to a concert!”

“No way, the way to a man’s heart is his stomach. Bring him a cupcake, with a little candle on it.”

“How old is he turning? 20? 21?”

He locked his eyes on the far wall. “He is turning...26.”

“....”

“Robin, _oh my god_.”

“An older man? You _dog_!”

“You really can’t do anything simply huh.”

“Dude that's like your brothers’ age. Oh fuck are you thirsting over one of your brothers’ friends?!”

Well, technically, you could say that. Tim is friends with Dick. Technically. Kind of. “Uhh...I plead the fifth.”

This was met with another uproar. When they settled down again he asked, “So does anyone have any actually good ideas? Or can I leave?”

Jon came in to save the day, and this was why he was Damian’s best friend. “What if you drew him something? Personalized, not too expensive, unique, and you can always claim you just had it in your notebook and thought he would like it.”

A drawing? Hmm...That could work. As a photographer, Tim had always had always had a greater appreciation of the arts than the rest of the bats. And if the topic was chosen carefully, then it would be much less revealing than if he bought a fancy watch or expensive concert tickets.

“Yes, that will work. Then if my gossip quota is filled,” he stood with a smirk, “Who wants to hit something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your comments feed my soul and give me inspiration <3 Come chat on tumblr @kittyinshadows or twitter @kittyinshadows_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim turns 26 and Damian starts posting thirst traps. These things are not necessarily related.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Limnaia for reminding me of one of my major plot bunnies lmao. All the comments are giving me life <3 we're past 10k and this is like the most I've ever gotten in a fic and they haven't even kissed yet

Tim’s actual birthday was spent with his friends, somewhere outside of Gotham. Damian knew because Dick was invited. Damian was not. After all, they weren’t friends. He spent his patrol with Dick pretending that his brother’s excited chatter about the upcoming party didn’t make the lizard in his brain want to shred its enclosure. Dick didn’t know Damian would want to go. Dick thought Damian merely tolerated Tim’s presence. Dick didn’t know Damian wanted to be bent over Tim’s bike and taken dry.

And now he was hard in his cup. Great.

The afternoon of July 19th found him at Markus’ penthouse, being dressed and ordered about like a doll. His friend insisted on showing him how to properly put together all his new outfits, and all the proper ways to move in them. 

"Seduction is a science," Markus said as he watched Damian lean forward in front of a mirror, far enough that he could see his own flexed pecs down the collar of his shirt, "and I have a goddamn PHD."

He almost thought himself free when he heard Markus ask, "So what are you wearing to Tim's party?" 

His entire body tensed. If he had been with the bats, they would have known immediately that something was up. But this was Markus, an innocent civilian, and he didn't notice a thing. 

"The suit I wear to all the WE events." 

Markus scoffed in a way he was sure had been adopted from him. "Oh absolutely not. Even if your man isn't there, there's still going to be gossip, and press, and insta opportunities. The new you is going to be at that party and he is going to be irre-fucking-sistible. Come on." 

"What?" 

"I said come one, we're getting you a new suit."

"The party is in two days." 

"I have a guy. He'll make time for us." 

Damian found himself dragged along to a downtown tailor shop. Damian had patrolled past it many times, but never been inside. The Wayne’s had had the same tailor since his grandparents' time. But when he was led to a fitting room, he could see why they were here. The man who shook his hand was maybe 30 years old, and dressed in a bright peach colored suit with a matching patterned bow tie. He had sharp eyes that Damian had seen on many assassins, and he looked at Damian like he was a badly frosted slice of cake; delicious, but disappointing. 

“I take it you’re usually dressed by Mr. Marino?”

“How’d you know?”

The man smiled. “Mr. Marino is who you go to when you want everyone to know exactly how important you are, and no one should question it. _I_ am who you go to when you want to seduce a married man."

Damian wrinkled his nose. "I do not want—" 

"Of course darling," the man interrupted with a wave, "But you do want to look like sex walking, and for no one to know that you want that." 

Hm. True enough. "And you can make that happen?" 

"Absolutely. But before we begin I must ask one question: does the birthday boy want the attention?" 

"What? Not really, no." 

The man smiled. "Good. Because you'll be stealing all of it." 

Many hours later, they walked out with Damian's new suit, and he had to admit the man ("You may call me Jean-Claude." "That is not your name." "Oh not even close.") had certainly lived up to his claims. When he'd looked at himself in the finished product, he'd almost been attracted to himself. The cut made him look trim but strong, and highlighted the muscles of his arms and thighs. Most importantly though, it brought the eye straight to his perfectly respectable but not insignificant bulge, and his ass in it could rival Nightwing's. The material was a lovely shade of lilac that was so different from his usual solid black attire that it was shocking. He felt… Desirable. He found he liked it. 

When the day of the party came, he insisted he drive himself, not wanting anyone to see him before the big reveal. The party was being held in a WE ballroom, with press outside awaiting arrivals. He sat for a moment behind the wheel, schooling his neutral face into the one Markus had taught him. Still neutral and uninterested, but in a mysterious and alluring way, as opposed to angry. Then he let himself out of the car, dropping his keys into the valet's hand as he walked toward the building, reveling in the press' momentary shocked silence. He let them take their pictures, but didn't answer any questions. 

There was a similar hush when he entered the ballroom, before everyone burst into chatter. He immediately made his way over to the small table where Tim was accepting gifts from some of the 'closer' guests. A small group of people surrounded Tim. He let himself be selfish, and brought Tim into a brief, friendly hug. He savored the feel of Tim's brief pat on his back. 

"New look?" Tim greeted. 

He smirked. "I'm trying something new." He glanced at the staring guests. "It seems to be working."

Tim smiled, eyes crinkling. "Hey, I'm fine with that. Takes some of the pressure off me." 

"Mm. Happy birthday." He reached into his jacket and brought out a manila envelope. "It's not much, but what do you get the boy who has everything?" 

He saw the surprise in Tim's eyes when they landed on the envelope. Tim never opened any of his gifts at the party, but he immediately went to open it. He watched carefully as Tim gasped under his breath, stars in his eyes. 

"I heard you were a fan as a child," he said, more for the people around them than Tim. The drawing was of Batman and Robin, perched on a rooftop overlooking the city. It was modeled off of one of Tim's photos, from early in his stalking career. He considered it one of his best shots. "I know it's difficult to find a clear image for display." That wasn't taken by Tim at 10 years old, that is. But a drawing? Lots of people had art or merchandise of the dynamic duo.Tim could put this up in an office or living room without any questions,and still be reminded of his own accomplishments. 

"Thank you." Tim carefully slid the paper back into its envelope, and suddenly Damian was in another hug. "I love it," Came Tim's soft whisper in his ears. He held down his shiver. 

"I'll let you get back to your guests." he said as Tim released him. "See you at the Manor sometime?" 

Tim nodded, already putting his gala face back on. 

As Damian was swept away to become the new center of attention, he let himself feel a soft, victorious joy. 

He had done good. 

  
  


An Instagram post was made. There had been more of those recently. For the last few years it had been sporadic pictures of his pets, with even more rare pictures of him and Dick on outings. He had broken that on pride, with pictures of him, Dick, and Markus at the festival, as well as a full body shot with him biting his lip. 

The new post had a shot of Damian and Tim, one of Damian and Markus, and one final one of just him in the suit, back turned to the camera and glancing over his shoulder. This post had received thousands of likes within the course of an hour. There had been several comments composed entirely of water droplet and peach emojis. 

This trend would continue. He and Markus had spent part of Tim's birthday on a photo shoot. Part of Markus' 'plan' involved posting what he called 'thirst traps' every week or so. 

It only took two more posts before he started getting a response. 

Another Buzzfeed article was made. It was titled “When did Damian Wayne Become Such a Snack?” A popular LGBTQ blog made a post as well, “Damian Wayne: Here, Queer, Open to Dating Me????” The press had begun to reach out to him. 

These things were what brought his father to summon him to his office.

“Father,” he said as he sat in the big chair across from him.

“Damian. I wanted to talk to you about your recent social media activity. I noticed your posts have been quite...bare…”

Oh but he was prepared for this moment. He knew his father, knew his strengths and flaws as both a parent and a man. So in a confused, inquisitive voice he said, "What's wrong with my body?" 

Father blanked. Bruce.exe has stopped working. Bruce Wayne was a charismatic, brilliant man, who could bend people to his will with words. But this all disappeared when it came time to be an emotionally sensitive father. They both knew that he didn't have the ability to reaffirm that there was nothing wrong with Damian's body and he should be proud of it, while still getting his point—stop being a hoe on the internet—across. 

"No." Father said, after a long silence. "There's nothing wrong with your body." 

He let the silence sit for a while. "Then what did you want to talk about?" 

Father hmmed. "Just, if you need any help with your social media, you can contact our PR agent."

"Ah. Is that all?" 

Father's face was scrunched and uncomfortable. "Yes." 

Damian nodded and stood to leave. He made sure the door was firmly closed behind him before he grinned in victory. 

Father couldn't admit defeat, so he sent Dick to talk to Damian next. One evening as he lazed in his room there was a knock on his door. 

"Hey Little D, can I come in?" 

Damian spared a quick glance to ensure his toys were all put away, then closed his book and called, "Enter." 

Dick came in and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. His body language was open, welcoming, and passive. Damian could sense the awkwardness laying underneath. This should be good.

“I wanted to talk to you about your recent Instagram posts. I’m glad that you—”

“Richard,” he interrupted. Dick looked startled at the use of that name. Damian hadn’t used it for years. The family only used it when scolding. “Are _you_ about to lecture _me_ about what I wear and who I share my body with?”

Dick looked like a deer in headlights. No, more worried. He looked like a rabbit looking down the barrel of a rifle.

“Uhhh…”

“Because I’m just pointing out that if you were to criticize how _I_ use _my_ body, you would open yourself to _me_ criticizing how _you_ use _yours_ . And considering the _many_ things I’ve heard about Nightwing from the superhero community, I’m not sure you want that. So let’s try this again. What did you want to talk about, Dick?”

“Uhhhhh, nothing Little D. Just wanted to say I love you. Yeah. I’ll uh, see you at patrol.” He smiled nervously, standing up from the bed.

Damian smiled back, sharp but genuine. “I look forward to it.”

  
  


The next person to broach the topic was Tim. Damian was unsure if this was good or not. He had been called to Tim's office at work, and rather than being handed a file to carry four floors away, Tim motioned him in. After he sat down, Tim studied him for a time, expression unreadable. 

Finally, he spoke. 

"So could you tell me why Bruce asked me to talk to you about your 'social media presence'?" 

Damian raised a brow, "Have you not seen my Instagram?" 

Tim shrugged. "I don't really pay attention to Instagram unless it's work related. More of a twitter guy. Also, busy as hell." 

Damian resisted a scowl. And didn't that just figure? All these half nude photos and Tim hadn't even seen them. Well, that was about to change. 

"Perhaps you should check it. "

Tim sighed a little and pulled out his phone, tapping through. Damian waited until a surprised expression flickered on his face to speak again. "I believe they are called 'thirst traps'?" 

Tim made a choked little noise that was almost a laugh. His lips twitched. "So did Bruce talk to you himself about this?" 

Damian smirked. "Yes. He commented on how 'bare' my recent posts were." 

Another twitch of lips. "And?" 

"And I replied," he put on an exaggerated innocent expression and high voice, "What's wrong with my body, Father?" 

Tim's body jerked as he barked a laugh. Damian's smirk was falling into something more genuine. It really was quite funny. He didn't get to make fun of his family like this often. None of his friends knew them well enough,and anyways only the family was allowed to laugh at the family. 

"And then he blue screened and told me to talk to the PR person and let me go."

Tim was hiding his smile behind his hand, wheezing a little. It filled Damian's stomach with butterflies. He felt like wiggling in his seat. "Uh huh?" Tim prompted. 

"So naturally he asked Dick to talk to me." 

"No." Tim wheezed. 

"Yes." Now Damian was on the verge of laughter. "I suggested that perhaps it wasn't wise for him to judge me on sexual promiscuity." And Tim cracked. Choking laughter shook his body, and he lowered his head to the desk. Damian let himself chuckle. When Tim reigned himself in at last, they were both grinning. 

" Fuck. Since when have you been able to play them so well? "

"I learned from the best." 

"Aww, how sweet. So you cornered Bruce, and called Dick a slut." 

"Pretty much." 

"And then he asked me," Tim's voice was filled with mirth. 

"Mhm." 

"Okay. Alright. Let's do this." Tim pulled his serious face back on. "Damian, why are you being a slut on the internet?" And then he was laughing again. 

"-tt- I really don't see how it's different from Brucie," he spoke through Tim's giggles. Tim's smile was the sun. He decided it was cloudy far too often. 

"Okay," Tim said as he calmed. "I can work with that. Argue that you're developing a public persona. He'll probably bite. No one will ever expect Knife Robin to be posting Instagram thirst traps. I assume you're actually doing it just because you want to?" 

Damian smiled. Tim had his back. Tim, who he had once fought at every turn, was going to take his side in an argument with Father. And Tim won more often than not, these days. 

"Perhaps. They have been quite well received." 

Tim glanced at his phone briefly and smirked a little. "I can imagine." Oh fuck. Damian was on fire now. Tim could recognize the objective attraction of his photos. Damian had succeeded. Fuck. Okay, mission complete, time to vacate the premise before he offered to ride Tim in his chair or something. 

Damian stood. "Thanks," he said "If you can't sway him suggest he send Jason next. That would be funny." 

Tim snickered. "Sure thing." 

"And, um. Is the offer to talk to you about… stuff… still open?" 

"Yeah babybat," Tim said with a smile. "Anytime."

Damian made a note to get Markus anything he wanted in the entire world. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim eats a popsicle, and Damian gets advice on how to deal with unwanted attraction.

Damian was going to murder Dick for bringing this about. He had spent the last nearly ten years of his life working hard to follow Father's no killing rule, but he thinks he would understand this exception. Not that he could ever tell anyone why he had to kill Dick, but it was the principal of the matter. 

Dick had stepped into the manor from the 99 degree windless day, slick with sweat and bleary eyed. This being Dick Grayson, nothing was taken away from his appearance, and rather he seemed to have a healthy glow. This was altogether unfair, as when Damian had taken Titus for his morning walk he had ended up looking like a damp rat. Dick had suggested they forget their plans for training and lunch, and instead have a pool day. From his position splayed out on the floor of the sitting room, this had sounded like an excellent idea. So he had gone up to his room to get his swim trunks, and when he came out to the pool he had realized his mistake.

Dick was sitting on the edge of the pool in his minuscule little speedo, because he was Dick, and he was on the phone. Specifically, he was on the phone with Tim. “C’mon Timmy, it’s Saturday, the sun is shining, and we haven’t just hung out in ages. You know Bruce’s pool is amazing, and if we don’t use it now, then who will! I’ve already got the SPF 80 and your floaty out, you just need to bring yourself. Oh, and popsicles! And not just the red ones ok, because purple is where it's at.”

“You invited Tim,” he said as soon as Dick hung up. 

Dick turned around to smile at him. “Yeah. You know how hung up on work stuff he gets. It’ll be good for him to get some sun.”

Damian frowned. “You said we were going to hang out today, just us.”

Dick smile dimmed. “We are. Us and Tim. I thought you were getting along lately?”

“We are,” he scowled. “But you changed the parameters of your original suggestion.”

“It’ll be _fun_ ,” Dick pressed. “Just the three of us. How often does that happen? And besides, he’s already on his way.”

“Fine.” Damian sighed, defeated. This wouldn’t be good. 

And that was how he came to be in this special hell. Dick was vacillating between floating on his back like a dead fish and doing tricks from the diving board. His lips were stained purple from the popsicle he had consumed in several bites, like a heathen. Tim was lounging on a floaty, one hand and foot trailing in the water beside him. Pale skin shone with droplets of water, interspersed with his many scars. Every time he shifted his abs rippled. His shorts were just a bit too tight, like he hadn’t bothered getting new ones since he finished growing, and they were telling Damian a lot more about Tim’s package than the Red Robin suit did. And in his other hand. Fuck. In his other hand, Tim held a bright red popsicle, the tip of which he was leisurely sucking on. 

Damian was going to die. Again. Not from his grandfather or evil aliens or Gotham's rogues or even a lowlife thug with a knife. He was going to die because of the perfect bright, puffy red of Tim’s lips and the occasional flick of his tongue, and his brain wouldn’t get enough blood and he would die. And when he went to Hell and met the devil, the devil would ask what happened and he would have to say, “I was too fucking horny.”

He was absolutely _not_ being overdramatic, and this was why Dick had to perish. 

While Dick and Tim lazed about enjoying the cool water and warm sun, Damian was stuck in one spot, his upper body sprawled over a floaty while his chest and below was submerged. He had been in this spot since Tim had arrived and rubbed sunscreen all over himself, including hitching up his shorts to cover his inner thighs. Damian was trapped. If he flipped over or got out of the water, they would see his more than half hard cock tenting his trunks and that would be an even worse death.

_Maybe, if I’m really, really, really good and help him with cases and bring him coffee and don’t backtalk for like a week, he’ll let me grind against his boot until I come._

Or maybe that thought wasn’t helping the situation.

Eventually, of course, Tim finished the popsicle, and he was able to calm himself enough to get out and sun himself on a lounge chair. He forced himself to close his eyes and not stare. He dozed for a time, then turned onto his stomach and dozed again. When he woke, Tim was nudging him awake. 

“You know if I did that I’d be lobster red right now. Ugh.”

Dick pulled himself from the pool. “You should get yourself some of these,” he said, snapping the waistband of his tiny briefs. “Then you can get your legs too.”

Damian wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ll pass.” 

“Hey, suit yourself.”

Tim nudged him again. It left his skin tingling. “You want me to get a picture for your Instagram? Suns out guns out, or whatever.”

He thought about it. Tim had already seen him like this, and that was half the point. But also...Tim was a great photographer. And every time he saw it, he would be reminded of the real thing. And then _Damian_ would have a picture Tim took of him. Would it be narcissistic to jerk off to a picture of himself thinking about Tim taking it? Maybe. He wasn’t sure he cared.

Damian consciously flexed all his muscles, made sure Tim saw the ripple of his stomach. “Sure,” he said. He handed Tim his phone. “Where do you want me?” He was glad Dick had wandered back inside, because he was sure he would revisit this moment a lot later. 

Tim opened his camera and moved to a few different spots, hemming and hawing. Finally he stopped, decisive. “Okay. On your back,” _yes please_ , “now stretch your arms above your head,” _anything you want_ , “Good. Now close your eyes and tilt your head just a—right there.” _My body is yours._ “Perfect. Just like a candid, except completely staged.” He stayed like that, in a mimicry of his previous nap, while Tim took a few shots. It was over all too soon, and then his phone was back in his hand, and Tim’s attention was returned to whatever it is Tim thinks about. 

Once dressed, he found himself trailing Dick and Tim down to the cave, pretending that he wasn’t set aflame by every stray glance of Tim’s dagger-sharp gaze.

—·—

Things were getting out of hand. This...attraction of his was on his mind far too often, distracting him from important tasks, making him blush at random times, and generally being a nuisance. And what's worse, the thoughts were piling up at the back of his throat, waiting to fall onto his tongue as words. One night at dinner, thoughts on the trail of dark hair at Tim’s navel, he looked up to find Father calling him, “Damian, something on your mind? I’ve said your name several times,” and by god he almost _told him_ . Almost opened up his mouth and blurted _I want Tim to fuck me_ , and that was not an acceptable outcome. Clearly he needed to _talk_ about things, loathe as he was to do so. 

He couldn’t talk to Father. There were many things he and his Father talked about; crushes were not one of them. And how would that even go? “Damian, when I was your age, I met a beautiful woman who I absolutely should not have been involved with. We engaged in a tumultuous on and off relationship that ended with unprotected sex and then you. Anyways, as your emotionally stunted father I shall now interrogate you about this boy because I do not understand personal boundaries.”

He couldn’t talk to Dick. The man would get all excited and want to know all about ‘babybat’s first crush!’ and Damian wasn’t sure he could withhold the information from his mentor.

Colin, Jon, and his other close friends would be all...emotionally well rounded and want to discuss all the implications and issues when all he wanted was to commiserate about how inconvenient emotions are. 

What he needed was a...a fellow control freak who wouldn’t pester him on the details. 

Oh that was definitely a bad idea. But then...in no universe did Damian see Tim giving enough of a shit to ask ‘Who?’ 

Well. Fuck it.

—·—

On a day neither he nor Red Robin were scheduled to patrol, he texted Tim.

**Damian** :

_If you are free I could use that advice tonight._

Two and a half hours later he received a reply. He almost wished he had just asked in person, as walking past Tim’s office several times during the wait was aggravating. But a reply did come. It read:

**Tim:**

_Sure._

Damian nearly punched the wall he was leaning on. Thanks for giving absolutely nothing to work with, Tim. But after another fifteen passed Tim texted again.

**Tim:**

_swing by around 7_

_pizza from the place on Maple?_

In another hallway, pile of folders tucked under his arm, he sighed in relief.

**Damian** :

 _Yes. I will see you then_.

  
  


7p.m. found Damian letting himself into the penthouse, dressed in carefully picked casuals. Inside he found Tim on the couch, already started on his own pizza. 

"Hey," Tim leaned his head over the back of the couch to look at him. "I just got you the veggie pizza, hope that’s okay.”

Damian nodded and sat on the other side of the couch, leaving a seat between them. He opened up his box and they ate in silence for a time. He was on his second slice when Tim spoke.

“So. You wanted to talk. To me. About...being gay.”

He shifted in his seat. “And related issues.”

“Right. Okay. Well, talk away.”

“Could I ask...how you knew?”

Tim seemed to think for a time, chewing and staring into the distance. “Well.” he began. “I was twelve years old, and every night I snuck out of the house to take pictures of Batman and Robin. And to me they were the entire world, the most amazing heroes I could think of. I guess I just realized that when I looked at Robin it was a bit more than just hero worship. I didn’t even necessarily want anything to come of it. I just thought he was the coolest boy in the world. Handsome, kind, bright, the closest thing to a prince I could imagine.”

“Your first crush was on _Jason?_ ”

“My first kid crush, yeah,” Tim laughed.

“Do you still…”

He chuckled, a fond smile on his face. “You have to understand, we’re completely different people now. Jason isn’t the bright-eyed kid running around Gotham in scaly panties, or the handsome boy laughing at rich people on the other side of a gala. And I’m not the lonely stalker who thought his heros are infallible. The kid in me is always gonna have a crush on Robin. I still get a rush when I look at my old photos of him. But I’m not that kid anymore, and neither is Jason. Does that make sense?”

“I...suppose so. Then my main reason for coming here is...you are a control freak, yes?”

“Um, rude.”

“No, I mean,” Damian scowled. “I pride myself on complete control of my body and mind. I do not know how to _deal_ with these thoughts and feelings that come with attraction. I do not give them permission to stay in my mind, but cannot make them leave. How can I push it aside? What do I do about being attracted to someone who will never, ever return the interest?”

Tim was looking at him with wide eyes. “Well _fuck_ babybat.” 

“Yes, yes, whatever. Now tell me that I am right and emotions are stupid and how I can get rid of them.”

“Um, well. I’ve never actually been interested in someone who wasn’t interested in me?”

Damian stared at Tim as the silence became increasingly tense. “I despise you. Ugh. I take back all our getting along. You’re back to being Drake.”

Drake barked a surprised laugh. “Hey! Come on, you can’t just revoke first name basis. I’m sorry I can’t help with that, but I think I can help with the rest.”

Damian made sure his lips didn’t twitch with Drake’s smile. “-tt- Fine. But I had better never hear you complaining about that boyfriend of yours.”

“Deal,” Tim laughed. Damian had made him laugh more today than he had in the last year. It made him feel warm inside. “Should be easy since Spectrum and I aren’t dating.” Damian’s heart jumped. Data retrieved. Tim was still speaking. “And honestly I think it would help if you just spoke out loud or wrote down the thoughts and feelings you have that upset you most. If you want to just bitch about this guy, I’m all ears.“

Damian scowled. “I’m not going to tell you—”

“I didn’t mean who it is. Just, complain. Come on, I know you’re great at that.”

Well. Damian was good at complaining. And he quite liked doing it. Carefully choosing his words, he began. “His lips look so soft and it’s not fair. It’s like he was made to specifically to torture me.”

Some time later, the pizza was gone and he had to admit he felt better having said all the annoying things in his head.

Tim had shifted his legs up onto the couch. One of his feet was pressed beneath Damian’s thighs. It made him disproportionately happy. “So. Feel less like you’re gonna burst?”

He nodded. “Hmph. Perhaps your idea had some merit.”

Tim smiled. “Glad to have helped. So before you head out,” it was getting rather late, “any last bit of advice you need?”

“Um.” Damian flushed. 

Tim took in his expression. “Oh boy. Ok. Just hit me. What do you need?”

Damian began slowly. “How do I...acquire things I do not want Father or Pennyworth to know about? Anything I order to the house is liable to be checked, and if I make purchases in person I risk getting seen...again.”

Tim looked awkward as he realized what sort of _things_ Damian must want. He ran a hand over his face. “When I was living at the manor and was doing something I didn’t want Bruce to know about I just had whatever I needed sent here. Of course, no one lived here at the time.” They sat in tense silence for a moment. “Ok, tell you what. You’re turning 20 in like, 5 days, right? Happy Birthday, order whatever you want here, and I’ll put the boxes in the office and we don’t ever have to talk about it again. Deal?” Tim pretended not to notice the flash of hunger on Damian’s face. Damian appreciated that.

“Deal.”

—·—

  
  
Damian did indeed have a _very_ happy birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter things are gonna get smutty, as Dami gets a face full of a villain's aphrodisiac!  
> As always find me on tumblr @kittyinshadows or twitter @kittyinshadows_


	7. A Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gets dosed with an aphrodisiac, and ends up crashing at Tim's. Tim expects to spend the night on the couch, but things get a little out of hand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be the smutty smut. sex pollen but Damian isn't like, so out of it he can't consent, just rlly horny. Also I tried my hand out Tim's POV so lemme know what you think? I'm not sure about his characterization.

Damian had been fortunate, as the youngest of a large family of crimefighters, to have not experienced the aphrodisiacs some villains used. When he was young his family would send him to take care of the surrounding area while they fought in the epicenter. And then for the last few years he had just happened to not be near any attacks. He had been lightly exposed, in a way that meant after patrol he immediately jerked off, but that was about the extent. 

So when he was the first to respond to a Poison Ivy attack, early one October night, he was really in for a shock. After the initial _puff_ of pollen in his face he was quick to slice his blade through the pods before they burst. Perhaps he shouldn’t have, because as it was the battle ended and his family went on their way, unharmed and unhorny. It was frankly unfair. Over the coms the others were going about their patrols completely routine. But he was sat atop a four story building, kneeling on the rough roof and hiding his panting breath in his elbow. His cock strained against his cup and it _hurt_ . His entire body was buzzing and he wanted something inside him and he was conscious and aware but fucking _desperate._ Like the time he had put a vibe against his prostate and held his base too tightly to orgasm, except that had only been a minute and this was twice as strong. He definitely wouldn’t be able to finish patrol. His bike was parked in the alley below but he didn’t think he could stand sitting on it, let alone _driving home_. He wasn’t about to sit on this roof for the several hours it took for the pollen to wear off.

He grit his teeth and calmed himself best he could, and unmuted his com. 

“Oracle,” he said, and his voice was somehow gravel deep and whining at the same time? As soon as he spoke the voices talking—Batgirl, Red Hood, and Batman—quieted.

“Robin? You ok?” came Barbara’s voice, so calm he couldn’t help feel better. 

“I was...dosed in the battle with Ivy’s plants. Where is the…” he paused to huff an embarrassed breath, “the nearest safe place with a bed.”

How a silent line could feel so tangibly uncomfortable he didn’t know. But it was. Surprisingly, or perhaps not at all, Red Hood was the first to speak. “Hey, kid, it’ll be okay. I can be there in like two minutes, just stay still—”

“ _No_ ,” he snarled a bit too loud. He winced at his own voice. “I do not want to be picked up, or worried over, or babied, I just want to _lay the hell down_.”

“Ok,” Oracle smoothly intercepted. “Red Robin’s penthouse is closest, but he’s there right now so next is the place under the—”

“That is fine. It has three bedrooms, I’m sure he can spare one.” Sure enough when he looked around Wayne Tower’s was looming over the city just two blocks away. Thank god he was alone, since his situational awareness was so shot.

He quickly grappled over, landing on the balcony that led into the penthouse’s gear room. “I am here. I will be back in contact when I wake up tomorrow and no sooner. Robin signing out.”

He quickly pulled the com out before anyone could reply, and shoved it in his pocket. He was struggling to type in the door code when it opened from the other side to reveal Tim, dressed in sweats and phone up to his ear. 

“Yeah he’s here, O. I know the drill. Make sure he’s fed, watered, and not doing anything he’ll regret in the morning. I’ll check in if needed.” He motioned Damian in.

Damian was immediately stumbling through the door, yanking off his mask and gloves, and starting to fumble at the collar of his suit. Tim was shifting foot to foot, phone now down by his side and looking supremely unnerved. “Hey, Damian, it’ll be alright. We’ll get you all settled, and—”

“I have been _horny_ before Timothy, you don’t have to treat me like a startled fucking deer. Just _point me to a bed_.”

“Uh, right, yeah, I’ll check the bedroom.” Tim scurried off. By the time Damian had yanked one boot off Tim was back. Back, and decidedly paler. “Um. So the guest bed is, um, buried in boxes?” his voice pitched an octave higher at the end.

Damian stopped pulling at his laces to stare. “Are you fucking serious?” he growled.

Tim’s jaw clenched. He seemed to be warring between awkward nervousness and the automatic anger that came when Damian snapped. “Yes. Sorry.”

Damian went back to his other boot. “Fine. I’ll take the couch.” He meant to sound annoyed, but his voice just came out whining and breathy.

“No!” Tim shouted, and Damian's glare was becoming desperate. “You are not going to...to _cum_ on my nice leather couch!”

“Would you rather I take your bed?” His boot was tossed aside. He started at the zipper on his back.

Tim was quiet, nose crumpled in disgust. “Yeah. Take the bed.”

“What?” His eyes went wide.

“At least I can change the sheets. Christ. Just, come on.” Damian dropped his armored top and followed, now clad in only his leggings and a thin undershirt. He was about to fuck himself in Tim’s bed. His cock jumped in its prison.

Tim grabbed a water somewhere along the way, and set it on the nightstand when they entered his room. Damian couldn’t be bothered to take in the decor. Just focused on the fluffy, king size bed that looked like heaven. “Ok, um, bathroom is through there. Shout if there’s an emergency. Do you, uh, need anything before I go?”

“Lube,” Damian said without pause.

“What?” Tim’s already wide eyes were getting wider. It would be impressive if Damian wasn’t in hell.

“The _lube_. Where is it?” He shoved his hand down his leggings and pulled the cup out of his jock. He groaned at the relief. 

“Uh. There’s lotion in the nightstand?”

“What are you, _thirteen_?” he snarled. He whirled around to glare at Tim’s stupid face. Tim’s eyes caught for a second on his now prominent bulge, before quickly landing on the ceiling, cheeks now pinking. “I don’t need fucking _lotion_ I need _lub_ e. _Internally safe lube_.”

“I. Don’t think I have any.”

“You. Don’t. Have. Any?”

“I’ve never brought a guy here!” Tim yelped.

Damian could have screamed. Instead he pulled open the nightstand and grabbed a strip of condoms. “Fine. This’ll have to do. Now get out. Or don’t. But I’m done waiting.” With that he landed on the bed and started pulling at his leggings. In his peripherals Tim exited the room, door slamming behind him. Damian paid it no mind though, instead focusing on the blessed feeling of freeing his cock from its confines. Quickly he kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed, pants still around his ankle, and rolled over to breathe in Tim’s scent. _Fuck_ . _He’s all around me. Fuck fuck fuck._ He was rutting against the mattress, unable to hold back the keening noise in his throat. Rolling a condom onto two fingers, he fucked into himself, grateful he had been so active lately. As soon as he found that spot he was coming into Tim’s silky soft, _deliciously_ scented sheets. 

—·—

Forty five minutes after rushing from his own damn room, Tim sat on the couch, TV just a bit too loud for his taste, crunching on chips he wasn’t even hungry for. He had texted Jason, _An Ivy dosed Damian is currently soiling my bedsheets. I have learned so many things I didn’t need to know_ . Jason had replied, _lol_. Fucker.

He'd always hated cases with aphrodisiacs. They were just so awkward and humiliating and potentially life ruining. And of course he was glad Damian was safe here and not in danger elsewhere, but did _Tim_ have to be the one whose bed witnessed Damian apparent first time getting pollened? 

Damian's voice cut through the drone of the TV, "Fuck!" Only, it didn't sound like a happy fuck, it sounded like an angry fuck. 

Tim rose from the couch and cautiously approached his own damn bedroom. Lightly knocking on the door he called, "Dami? You okay babybat?" 

Damian whined. "I c-cant… I-I _can't!_ I'm so—almost—but I _can't_ I need more, I need _more!"_

Oh Jesus Christ. "Can I, um, get you anything? I could… Go grab lube..?" 

There was a pause filled with Damian panting. "I need… I need my _toys_." Oh _Jesus Christ._ Damian was gonna kill him tomorrow when he realized what he'd said. 

“Do you want me to go...get them?”

“ _Please_ ,” Damian begged him. Tim was a dead man. Damian al Ghul Wayne did not _beg_ and he certainly wouldn’t let the witness _live_. He does feel bad for the guy though. His first time getting dosed was pretty rough, if he remembers right, but then he had been at the manor and Alfred gave him a sleeping pill so he didn’t have to deal. And the other times after that he had been seeing someone or had a friend come help him out. What could he do here? Either go in the room and ignore how Damian sounded about to cry, or push past the embarrassment and grab Damian his toy and some spare clothes for the morning. 

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” he called through.

With how well he knew the drive, and the Red Bird being the way it was, he was at the manor in 10 minutes. Alfred greeted him at the door.

“Master Tim,” he said, dry as ever. “It was my understanding you were taking care of Master Damian.”

“Yeah, I just thought I’d, um, grab him some clothes and stuff so he can be more comfortable when it wears off.”

Alfred smiled, just a little. “A good idea. I am so glad you boys are getting along well.”

He smiled to mask the awkwardness. “Yeah.” _Because he begged me to pick up his fraking sex toys._ “I’d better be quick, don’t want to be out too long.”

He waved at Alfred and hurried up to Damian's room. It was unlocked, and Tim took a moment to take in Damian’s private space. He hadn’t been in here in years. He made himself look past the art supplies, books, and clutter Damian had accumulated over the years. He cautiously opened the nightstand, hoping they were here cause he _really_ didn’t want to scour Damian’s room for hidden sex toys. 

What he saw made him pale before abruptly flushing bright red. There was...a lot. _He doesn’t need_ all _of these right_? So he grabbed a nearby backpack and shoved in the ones at the front. Some sort of vibrator, a plug, and a bottle of lube. Then he went to the closet and grabbed some sweats, put them in atop the paraphernalia. He was wondering if he ought to grab any of Damian’s hygiene products when he saw through the bathroom door. There, sitting proudly on the bathroom countertop, was a dildo, pale flesh colored, veiny, perhaps six inches long, sat right next to a half empty bottle of cleaner. The counter was still wet around it. 

_That was in Damian’s ass this morning._

Jesus Christ.

Gingerly, he grabbed the thing’s base between thumb and index, and dropped it into the bag. Quickly zipping it up he ran to his car like a bat out of hell. 

Sure enough, he was back to his bedroom door just over half an hour after he left. He rapped again, calling, “Hey Dames, I’m back. I’ve uh, got your stuff, I’ll just drop the bag in the door and be gone.”

A moan answered him. Welp. Here goes. He cracked open the door, and immediately the musky scent of sex hit his nose. He shoved the bag through the crack and slammed it shut again. 

He needed some fucking coffee.

—·—

Damian dragged himself from the bed to stumble over to his backpack. The first thing he saw when he opened it was his favorite cock, the one he had very pointedly _not_ named Tim. It had no name. And he did not imagine it was Tim when he fucked himself with it. Because that would be desperate and sad. But that wasn’t important right now because he had to go fuck himself in Tim’s bed. He dug out his massager, plug, and lube, and they should be enough, the classics. Now he had a decision to make: how gross of a person was he?

As he pulled a t-shirt out of Tim’s laundry basket and pressed it to his nose, he decided, _pretty fucking gross_. 

He laid face down in the bed again, t-shirt beneath his head, and quickly slathered the cock with lube, and worked it into himself. Spread wide around his favorite toy, scent of Tim’s sweat in his nose, he found himself coming before he could even touch his dick. _Yessss._ He didn’t soften, but the horrible need was calming some, now that he was full. 

He pulled his other toys closer and sighed. It was time to get to work.

—·—

Tim had moved to his office to try and get some work done, since clearly he wasn’t going to be sleeping for a while. Next to him was a pint of coffee that he had been working through for the last hour. He had made some progress on a case he had been working, pointedly ignoring the occasional vocalizations from the room nextdoor. He made a note to add soundproofing if ever someone moved in with him. Clearly what he had wasn’t enough. Either that, or Damian was _exceptionally_ loud. 

After a time, he noticed the sounds had disappeared. _About time it wore off_ , he thought. Just when he was considering checking on him, Damian called, “Tim!”

Frankly the brat sounded exhausted. Tim saved his progress and drained the last of his mug before he got up to see what Damian needed. 

He didn’t bother knocking, just stepped inside. Damian was laying nude face down on the bed, arms holding Tim’s favorite pillow to his face. He was glistening with sweat, and his upper thighs appeared...slick. Sometimes Tim wished he weren’t so perceptive. Laying beside Damian, atop sheets stained by lube and more, lay the dildo, vibrator, and bottle of lube. 

“Hey babybat, you all done?” Thank god. Tim could help him to the shower and grab him something to eat, then text the family Damian was okay and crash on the couch. The awkwardness would be done, and he and Damian could go back to their normal almost friendly relationship. 

He didn’t expect Damian to lift his head from the pillow and say, “No.” Jesus, he didn’t know Damian was capable of blushing like that. And the pillow was wet...actually Damian's whole face was wet and oh fuck Damian was crying. There were tears in Damian al Ghul Wayne’s eyes. They would never find his body, because Damian would kill him so violently there would be nothing left. But at least Damian was done—wait what had he just said?

“What?”

“I’m not—” Damian's voice was whining, "I’m so tired I just want to _sleep_ but I need...I just need one more but I can’t _get there_. I need—I need— _Tim._ ” Damian’s hips gave a sad little thrust against the bed before he seemed to flinch back from the sensation. His blown out, half lidded eyes were focused on Tim, pleading. What the fuck was happening here?

“What...what do you need? I can go get you something…?”

“ _No_.” Damian whined. “I need—I need—” Damian shoved his face back into the pillow and muffled his frustrated shout. Then he shifted one knee up on the bed, spreading himself out and revealing the plug nestled inside himself. _What the fuck oh my god what the fucking fuck is he does he want oh my god what the fuck._

Before Tim even thought to move he was at the bed, grabbing Damian’s leg and pulling it closed. Damian gasped, broken and stuck in his throat, hips jumping at the touch.

“What are you doing?!” Tim tried to keep his cool and failed.

"I think that's fairly clear."

"Damian, I can't—I'm not going to fuck you!"

Damian's eyes staring back at him were so dilated he can only see a thin rim of green. “Why not? You like men, I am more than willing. It does not have to mean anything.”

“That’s not—you know that’s not the issue here. There’s so many reasons why I can’t do that for you I can’t even go into it!”

“Am I not attractive?” Damian asked, voice strangely tremulous, eyes glistening again. 

_What is happening right now?!_ “That’s not what—agh.” Tim rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. “Look...ignoring the fact of...who we both are...you aren’t in your right mind right now. You would never ask me for this if you weren’t under the influence. If I did what you are asking me to do, not only would you and the family never forgive me, _I_ would never forgive me. Do you understand?”

“...Yes,” Damian replied sadly, before lowering his head and punching the pillow, a characteristically Him thing to do.

Tim stood in silence for a moment, trying not to look at the way Damian was twitching in place. He looked _exhausted_ , completely spent, and miserable in a way Tim hadn’t seen him before. He felt...bad for the brat. _Oh, no. Do_ not. _That is such a bad idea do not do it_.

He sighed. “I can’t...fuck you. But I can...help you out. Roll onto your side.”

Damian jerked his head up to stare, eyes filled with disbelieving anticipation. “What?”

“Come on, before I change my mind.” He quickly moved the toys and lube off the bed, and slipped onto the bed to lay against Damian’s back. He pushed one arm beneath Damian to grasp his chest, holding him firmly against his own body. “Ready?” he asked, and Damian reached a hand up to grasp the back of Tim’s neck. He nodded.

Tim closed his eyes. This was fine. Just like he does to himself. And then they could both go the fuck to sleep. His right hand slipped down Damian's stomach, fingers curling around his cock. 

At the touch Damian jumped in his arms, a cry leaving his lips. It would seem he was just exceptionally loud. 

_He’s smaller than me_ , a detached part of his mind noted, heady and superior. He began to move. No reason to draw this out. 

As he stroked Damian’s loud moans began quiet, until he was laying in Tim’s grasp, quivering, and panting soft little, “Ah, ah, _ahh_ ,” sounds.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes of touch before Damian tensed and went completely lax, a sad dribble of cum falling onto Tim’s hand. 

Tim detached himself from Damian and went to wash his hands. By the time he came back with a damp washcloth Damian was fast asleep. He quickly wiped the younger man down, tossing the soiled cloth away. He couldn’t be bothered to clean anything else. He had been awake for nearly 32 hours now, had been planning on using his night off to catch up on sleep, and he wanted to sleep. He was about to head to the couch when he decided, fuck it. He had just made Damian cum, they could share a bed for one night. 

So he got into bed, pulled the covers over the two of them, and went the fuck to sleep.

— · —

When Damian woke he was immediately aware that he was not in his own bed, as he had been trained to notice since he was a child. He was careful to keep his breathing steady as he extended his senses, but he felt strangely...comfortable. He was surrounded with the scent of Tim, covered in blankets, and at his back...was someone's chest. Right. He was in Tim’s bed, because he had been dosed with Ivy’s pollen and needed a place to ride it out. So the body pressed against him must be Tim.

Fuck.

Tim had jacked him off, and then  _ slept beside him _ .

A thrill swept up his spine.  _ Tim has seen me nude. Tim has touched my cock. Tim made me cum. _ He had had so many fantasies and dreams like this. Beneath the sheets he was half hard. The painful desperation of the pollen was gone, but the feeling in his gut was still more intense than his normal morning arousal. 

He stretched carefully, savoring the feeling of the plug against his rim, and—

_Hello_ _there._

Tim was hard against his ass. 

All thoughts of quietly going to the bathroom to clean himself up were gone from his mind. 

He reached behind himself to grab on Tim’s thigh, and slowly ground against his hips. The press of Tim’s cock jostled the plug inside him, and his breath hitched behind clenched teeth. Another grind and a groan echoed in Tim’s throat. One more and Tim's around him tightened. One more and he felt Tim’s lashes fluttering against the back of his next.

“Mmm…” Panting breath on his bare flesh had Damian shivering. And then Tim stiffened around him.

“Damian?” Despite the shock, his voice was still rough with arousal. He quickly sat up, the blankets falling off their heated bodies. “What are you doing?” His hands went to cover his clothed lap.

_ Well. All in. _ Damian rolled onto his stomach and stared back at Tim with half-lidded eyes. “I’m in my right mind  _ now _ , Drake.” One hand moved to spread his ass, revealing the plug nestled there. “But I could still use some help if you’re willing.”

Tim’s look a flustered shock had been painted over with his usual guarded mask. “You want to sleep with me sober?”

Damian maintained eye contact. If this was going to work Tim needed to know he was completely sure. “Like I said last night, why not?”

“Because we barely get along, it’d make everything complicated and awkward, and Bruce and Dick would kill me?”

“We hardly need to get along for  _ this _ . Your acting like I’m proposing, not suggesting a convenient fuck. And I suspect they would see  _ me _ as at fault, considering my mother's tendency to seduce good men. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. We’re both horny, I’m already prepared, and you made me feel good last night. I’d like to return the favor.” Damian’s skin crawled with how insignificant he was making it out to be. He knew damn well that getting fucked by Tim was a bad idea, and definitely a big deal. But Tim seemed like he might actually say yes, and he desperately wanted to know what Tim’s cock felt like.

Tim’s mask wavered. He was going to cave. “This would just be between us?” 

_ Yes!! _

“Do I seem like the type to kiss and tell, Drake?” he smirked.

Tim cracked. Finally. His blank mask fell away, leaving a hungry and a little confused expression. He quickly yanked his shirt over his head and pushed his sweats to his knees. He reached down, one hand pushing Damian’s shoulders into the bed, the other grasping the plug and pulling it right out. Damian moaned, loud and happy. His lips couldn’t help but smile into the pillows. Then two fingers were pushing inside him, immediately curling into his prostate. His hands came up to scrabble at the bedding. Oh fuck. Tim’s long, graceful fingers were inside him. They felt so much better than his own. Tim’s other hand was pulling him up onto his knees. Then it was grasping his cock tightly. He shouted. God, he loved Tim’s hands. How would his own ever be enough after this.

Tim started to speak, and it was like nothing he ever imagined.

“Do you like that, brat? You know you're smaller than me,” the hand squeezed his cock. “Imagine that, Damian al Ghul Wayne, bred to rule the world, and  _ my _ cock is bigger than yours. Dick and Jason’s too, you know? How about that brat, the littlest of the Robins?”

Damian was filled with hot humiliation, cheeks and chest flushing red, but...it felt  _ good _ . His cock was leaking beneath him onto the bed. “I’m not—I’m not  _ small _ ,” he protested.

“Oh sure. You’re perfectly above average.” But the way he said it sounded insulting, degrading. That was okay, though, because as he said it Tim’s cock was brushing against his entrance as he leaned over him to grab a condom. 

He sounded like when he was Red Robin, faced with a cunning villain; his voice was cold and sharp, and it was slicing beneath his skin to reach his core. 

Then Tim was pulling away, wrapper discarded and condom rolled on. The lube was grabbed and drizzled directly onto Damian’s entrance, making him jump from the cold. Then Tim’s cock was there, head rubbing the cool fluid against his hot flesh. A sob caught in his throat.

“You want that, don’t you? Want me to fuck you so bad you could cry. You used to want me dead, and now here you are, begging to be wrapped around my dick.”

“Fuck,  _ yes _ ,” he gasped, blinking against the heat in his eyes.

“Yes what? What do you want?” The tip of his dick caught on his rim before it popped past, and  _ no it was right there right there go back _ .

He mumbled his response into the bed. 

“Ah-ah-ah. If you want it you need to beg for it.” He repeated the action.

Damian gasped and turned his head. He could see the wicked smile that graced Tim’s lips. It was reminiscent of the last time he had outsmarted Ra’s. And wasn’t that something. Tim felt like he was  _ besting  _ him. Damian wanted him to.

“Please,  _ please, pleeeaaase _ , fuck me, fuck me now!”

Tim pushed into him. 

Damian couldn’t stop his moans. God, Tim was  _ big _ . Wider than his favorite toy, wider than anything he had tried. It hurt, the stretch, it hurt so  _ perfectly _ . Tim seemed to be aware of the challenge he presented, moving slowly. Luckily Damian had stretched himself out extensively the night before. Soon Tim’s hips were pressed to his, and Damian was fuller than he had ever been before. Tim leaned down, chest to his back, and wrapped his left arm under Damians chest, hand resting against his collarbone. The other held Damian’s dick loosely.

“You good babybat?” Tim breathed against the back of his neck. Damian nodded frantically, and wiggled his hips. “Good boy,” Tim praised, making Damian feel warm and cared for.

Then Tim began to thrust steadily. Every movement punched a noise out of Damian. His cock leaked precum steadily. Tim kept up his talk, slowly losing composure. “So tight around me babybat. You’ve never had someone this big have you? Now every time you see me in the showers you’ll remember how I feel inside you, how wide I stretched your tight little hole, how full I fucked you. Isn’t that right?”

“ _ Yes, yes, so good so good please please harder!” _

Tim laughed breathily against his skin, arms tightening around his body. “If you say so.” 

With every deep thrust their skin slapped together, jolting Damian’s body, bruisingly deep within him. Every brush against his prostate sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. Tim’s hot breath was getting quicker against his skin, his hand around Damian’s length keeping pace with his hips.

One pointed thrust to his prostate sent Damian over the edge, clenching hard around Tim’s cock. Tim grunted behind him, thrusts going erratic, and then Damian felt teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder, muffling Tim’s moan as he came. 

Through his haze, Damian felt Tim lowering their joined bodies to the mattress, and finally slipping out. Tim was a comforting weight on his back, voice speaking soothingly in his ear. There was a hand running slowly along his side. At some point Tim got up. He must have drifted off, the weightless satisfaction lulling him asleep.

When he came back to himself, Tim was coming out from the bathroom, dressed again, the sound of the shower coming from behind him. His shaggy hair was dripping. 

“Hey babybat, let’s get you in the shower.” He was helping Damian to roll over and stand. His pride insisted that he could walk alone, but as soon as he was up his legs were quaking, knees like jello. So he allowed Tim to steer him to the shower. He took a longer time than usual just leaning against the wall, water sluicing over him. 

Once out he got the clothes from his backpack, and gave the toys a quick rinse before packing them away. He had to follow the trail of clothes back to his uniform, quick to shove them into the bag. When he had his belongings all back, knees feeling more solid, he took a deep breath. 

That wasn’t a good idea. He shouldn’t have done that. But  _ god _ was it good. And now he had to live with it. In the main room Tim was sitting at the kitchen island on his laptop. A seat away was a plate of toast, clearly meant for Damian. A peace offering.

He gingerly sat beside Tim and took a bite.

“I called Alfred. Told him to come pick you up in a couple hours.” The  _ so you have time to recover _ went unspoken. Damian was grateful for it.

“Okay.” He took another bite. “Is that the Moretto case?” he pointed to Tim’s screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied, glancing up. “Why?”

“I...could help?” A peace offering.

A small smile broke through Tim’s mask. “Sure.”

Damian was relieved. They would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3. I haven't responded to every comment bc I hate throwing off the comment count, but know I read and cherish and scream over every one! Every comment fuels a page of writing!  
> Next up, Dami confides in Dick that he finally lost his virginity, and Dick confides in Tim that he doesn't know what to do about Dami losing his virginity...whoopsie!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian talks to his big brother Dick about losing his virginity. And Dick asks Tim for advice on how to deal with Damian. Tim did not expect to be faced with a moral dilemma today, but Fate had never been kind to him.  
> Jesus Christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept refreshing my email like I'd get a notification someone had updated my fic...damn, had to do it myself. Not sure where this is going, so any feedback or what you want to see is welcome!

Atop the highest building in Bludhaven, Nightwing was kicking his legs over the roof's edge. It amazed Damian, after everything that Dick had gone through, that he was still able to grin the way he did, carefree and joyful. There was something about patrolling with Nightwing that made Damian feel like a child, when he hadn’t felt like a child even at six years old. Nightwing made him feel like he could do anything. Even if that anything was be an innocent. That sense of safety, of comfort, was something he could use right now.

He had asked Father if he could patrol here for the night, to spend some time with Dick. Dick had been pleasantly surprised at the request. Father had seemed quietly proud. Ten years of life with them and everyone still acted shocked when he expressed affection sometimes. But it was a week after he had slept with Tim and he...he needed his mentor. He needed to talk with the person he trusted most in the world, and he needed to pretend he didn’t need the hug Dick would push on him.

Patrol had been good that evening. Productive but not too busy. They’d stopped a mugging, busted a car thief, and returned a lost cat. Now they were enjoying the view, listening to the police scanners but not expecting much. Dick was telling some story from when he’d first moved to Bludhaven, when there had never been a slow evening. 

Then he turned his attention to Damian, who had been mostly quiet. 

“So, Dami. Anything you need to talk about? You don’t just ask to patrol with me often.”

Damian stared at the rooftop between them. 

“I...want to tell you something. That I am unsure how I feel about. But you can’t overact, and if I tell you to stop prying you need to.”

Dick nodded, looking a little concerned now. “Of course Little D. Anything. Are you...okay?”

“I am okay. I just feel...weird.”

“Alright then. Hit me.”

For a moment he considered punching Dick, but he would let it pass for now.

“I had sex,” he blurted.

Dick’s supportive smile turned a little awkward. “Um. Good for you bud. Is there a reason you’re telling me about it? We don’t usually talk about your sex life.”

Damian huffed a frustrated breath. Dick didn’t _get_ it. He moved his eyes up to meet Dick’s. Slowly, he enunciated, “For the first time.” 

And Dick froze. A bead of sweat dripped down to meet his mask. The white out lens’ were comically wide. Damian could practically hear the dial-up sounds. He counted two minutes before Dick squawked, like a dying seagull, “What?”

“I had sex for the first time,” he repeated.

“Like…all the way for the first time?” Dick asked, a little desperate.

“Like, _at all_ for the first time.”

“Oh,” faintly. 

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you’re seeing anyone?”

“I am not.”

“Okay,” Dick’s voice was a little too high pitched. He stood abruptly. “We are finishing this conversation at my apartment, with hot chocolate. And maybe beer. Actually, definitely beer.”

Settled on Dick’s couch, dressed in sweats, with hot chocolate in hand, they began again.

“Okay. Okay. Do I know who—”

“Dick,” he cut off. “No prying.”

“Right. Not prying. Then, do you think you’ll see him again?”

“Not...in that capacity. I do not think it will happen again.”

Dick’s hands clenched around his mug. “He didn’t... _pressure_ you to—”

“No. I asked him. Just about threw myself at him. He doesn’t know that I had never...”

“Oh...So was it...bad?”

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. Focused on not blushing. “Not at all. Just the opposite.”

“So...what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just...needed to talk about it. And I trust you. And you said I can talk to you about anything.”

“You can!” Dick replied quickly. “You can...I’m glad you felt like you could come to me. Do you...want a hug?”

Damian nodded at his hot chocolate.

Then Dick’s arms were around him, pulling his head to his chest.

“It’s all okay, Little D. It’ll be okay.

“What if,” his voice wavered. “What if I messed it up? Things were going well and we were getting along and then I went and fucked up a friendship because I wanted his stupid perfect cock! And he clearly thought I’d done it before, he never would have agreed otherwise. Why wouldn’t he think that? I’m the twenty year old son of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne and was a child assassin! I first killed a man at seven. Why does this fucking matter? It shouldn’t matter! To anyone else or to me. It’s stupid.” He scowled into Dick’s chest.

Dick took a while to answer. “I’m not going to tell you that it won’t change anything, because I can’t know that. But if he’s a good guy, and I don’t think you would sleep with someone who wasn’t, then if you both work to be friends it’ll work out. And it’s okay, that you waited to have sex. I know that most of the family has become pretty...casual about it all, but that doesn’t mean you should be. Like you said, you were a child assassin. Your control of your body is really important to you. I think it makes sense that you would feel strongly about sharing that with someone.”

Damian nodded. He felt better, having spoken about it. He wasn’t crazy. He hadn’t ruined things with Tim. He had his big brother’s support. It would be okay.

  
—·—

Tim was sprawled on Dick’s couch, after working together on a case for hours. In their hands were deceptively strong, bright pink cocktails that Dick had made them. On the coffee table, atop now closed folders of information, was enough Thai food to feed a small army. 

It was nice to spend some relaxed time with Dick. They were both busy people—Dick working towards a promotion with the Bludhaven PD, Tim heading R&D and WE, and both of them working as superheroes 4+ nights a week. Even though they were working on a case… it was still more like downtime, spending an evening catching up with his big brother. 

After the initial rush to stuff their faces with as much food as possible, Dick glanced over at him. "Tim… Can you keep a secret?" 

Tim's brows rose. This was unexpected. Apparently more was going on with Dick than he had thought. 

Dick rushed forward. "I mean, of course you can keep a secret, like discovered Batman’s identity at nine, duh, but I meant more, um. Well it's just someone told me something recently that I'm not supposed to tell anyone else, and I respect that, I do, but I don't know what to do about the whole situation. And you're so trustworthy and always have good ideas for solutions. So I guess what I'm asking is, if I tell you something I shouldn't, can you assure me it ends with you?"

Apparently a _lot_ was going on with Dick. Tim hadn't seen him this frazzled since he had thought he would have to miss Damian’s high school graduation. Or when he had tried giving Damian a safe sex talk. Or when Alfred’s 75th birthday present had accidentally been shipped to Gotham, Poland instead of Gotham City, USA. Probably something with the family then.

“Did Bruce get another orphan?” he asked.

This startled a laugh from Dick. “What? No. I’m pretty sure he’s done gaining kids.”

“Oh, good. Then yeah, of course I can keep a secret. Whatever it is, you can tell me in complete confidence.”

Dick nodded, but paused to collect his thoughts. Tim didn't push him, instead taking sips of his cocktail.

“Damian lost his virginity.” Tim choked on his fucking drink. His glass was hastily set down, one hand clutching his chest while the other covered his mouth. He coughed and hacked, liquor burning in his nose, Dick’s hand rubbing his back with concern.

When he could finally breathe, his voice was shaky enough he was thankful he had an excuse. “He what?”

“Sorry, I should have waited. Yeah, um. Damian lost his virginity.”

“But he’s twenty?” Tim’s voice was hoarse.

“That’s what I thought. Like, surely he’d messed around with his friends and just not talked about it? But apparently not. I guess the most he’d done was kiss a guy when he was younger.”

“And he...told you all this?” His mind jumped to Damian assuring him he wouldn’t tell anyone. Joking that he didn’t kiss and tell. Kiss...oh god. They hadn’t even kissed. Tim had been Damian’s first time, and he didn’t even kiss him. “Did he say who…?”

“No, he told me not to pry. And given the topic...I agreed. I think...honestly I think he just wanted a hug. Emotional support, you know?”

 _Damian_ had needed emotional support. Tim had fucked Damian, never even kissed him, and then Damian had gone to Dick for emotional support. And now Dick was asking Tim for advice. _Wow,_ Tim should not be a part of this conversation. There was no possible way he could give Dick ethically sound advice. What should he do? Tell Dick, and betray Damian’s trust? Abuse Dick’s ignorance and dig for information? Transparently opt out of helping? _Jesus Christ_ , what had he done.

“And what do you need to be telling me this for? Because I can assure you Damian does _not_ want me knowing this.”

“It’s just Dami seemed so scared he’d ruined their friendship right? He doesn’t know what to do. So how do I help him? Like, you and I could totally figure out who it is right? And then I can go and give him a talking to?”

“You,” Tim took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You want me to help you...betray Damian’s trust and invade his privacy? So you can give a shovel talk to his boyfriend,”—oh wow, and now he was faking wrong assumptions to push Dick off the scent! Haha, this wasn't torture at all—“he doesn’t want you to know about?”

“Well they aren’t dating—”

“So you want to beat up one of his friends? Over consensual sex?” Extremely consensual sex, as he remembered it. He didn't remember the last time one of his partners had been that excited about his cock. _Because he’d never even seen one before_ , his stupid mind whispered.

Dick frowned. “I guess...when you say it like that it’s a really bad idea.”

“Look...I don’t think I should be helping you with this. Just...you said he needed support right? Just be supportive. That’s like, your whole thing.”

“Yeah. Dick Grayson, supportive brother.” He puffed up, looking optimistic. And then he deflated. “God, what do I say though? Don’t worry Damian, I’ve fucked up tons of friendships by involving sex and romance, it’ll be okay?”

Tim shrugged next to him, feeling so incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’ll turn out,” he said.

_You’ve already made sure of it, telling me._

Thankfully, Tim was able to turn Dick onto less stressful topics. But for the rest of the night half his mind was stuck on what to do about Damian.

  
—·—

The next day he spent at the office, he noted the distinct lack of Damian. Just like how Damian hadn’t been by for the almost two weeks since they’d slept together. He’d been so grateful to not have to deal with the awkwardness he hadn’t thought about what it meant. So when he got home that evening, he did some planning. Then he texted Damian.

**_Tim_ ** **:**

_Hey, a new scifi movie came out on netfix, you wanna come by and mock the unrealistic science and action scenes?_

His answer didn’t come until after the night’s patrol. They hadn’t crossed paths. 

**_Damian_ **: 

_Yes_.

Good enough for Tim. Their tentative friendship would soon be mended. There was nothing the two of them agreed on more than making fun of others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you feedback is fuel to my soul <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Damian hang for the first time after the Incident. They can totally do this friend thing. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha whoops...it's been a while. I accidentally started a new fic! But I made myself bang this out before I go back for the second half of the new one. Enjoy <3 I made myself flustered with this one.

He was not sure if he was relieved about his plans with Tim, or nervous. On one hand, it was good that they were going to hang out, as friends. On the other, the evening held the possibility of going horribly, disastrously wrong. He wanted Dick to be right, he wanted their friendship to be worth pushing through. He wanted to be done avoiding Tim's office and patrolling only on the other side of the city. He wanted to not be trapped in his room when he knew Tim was at the Manor. But he was… Wary to spend the evening together, when the last significant chunk of time spent in each other's presence involved him getting plowed. And of course, he had been revisiting the memory often, lately. It was going to be awkward. He did not have the ability to defuse awkward situations like Dick, or Father, or Jason, or Tim did. Or Cass, Steph, Alfred, Barbara, Jon, Wallace, Colin… Okay so he needed to work on his social skills, because clearly he was at a disadvantage here compared to literally every person he knows. 

In the end, he decided he wasn't too nervous to go, simply because he was excited to bash the movie. There was a special look of malicious joy Tim got when he noticed shots didn't line up in a film. He looked forward to witnessing it today. 

Entering the penthouse he almost expected the scent of sex to still be hanging in the air. It wasn’t, of course, it had been weeks. He wasn’t struck with memories, or overcome with emotion. It was just the penthouse. In the living area, Tim was already seated on the couch. The nice, leather couch, whose cleanliness Tim valued so much he would rather Damian soil his bed. On the coffee table, once again, there were two pizza boxes. Netflix was open on the massive TV, Tim scrolling through icons. 

Damian didn't have to announce himself. "Hey Damian," Tim greeted as he entered. 

"Hello, Tim," he replied. 

Tim glanced back at him over the couch. His eyes were such an icy blue, Damian had almost forgotten after a few weeks of avoidance. He was suddenly grateful they hadn't been face to face when they fucked. Damian wasn't sure he'd be able to ignore the memory of those eyes watching him. "You ready to be disappointed in Hollywood's collective knowledge?" 

Damian shed his jacket, carefully sitting on the other side of the couch. 

"To be disappointed would require having any expectations at all." 

Tim snickered, that little gremlin like laugh that never came from Red Robin or Timothy Drake Wayne, only Tim Drake. 

"Ooohhh, sick burn," he said, and Damian once again marveled that the person behind all of Tim’s cool, put together masks could be so embarrassing. He kind of adored it. 

He opened his box of vegetarian pizza, and hungrily grabbed a slice. There were many things about America that would never love as much as his family and friends, but pizza he could agree with. "So what are we watching?" he prompted. 

The movie was alright. It would have even been good, if he were someone capable of suspending his disbelief. What was fun, however, was the way he and Tim were constantly speaking over each other to tear it to shreds. 

“A man of that size would not be able to move like that. He is completely unbalanced.”

“He shouldn’t even exist!” Tim pressed, not for the first time. “That is not how genetic engineering works! You can’t just throw in the word CRISPR and some other jargon you saw in a DailyNews piece and tada it's an explanation! This isn’t Jurassic Park, you’re not enough of a classic to get away with it!”

“Just stab him you imbeciles! He is not invulnerable, just big! His stupid veins are all bulging out, they could slash his femoral artery and he would be dead in minutes.”

“Oh Jesus,” Tim whined. His voice took on a mocking pitch, “Hi, I’m the Master Hacker character, you can tell because I’m wearing glasses and a hoodie! I’ll just go into command prompt and press three buttons and we’ll have everything we need, because that’s totally how this works!” Damian decided not to comment on Tim wearing a hoodie. 

By the end of the movie their pizzas had been decimated, and they were both laughing at their own snark. 

“I give it a 3/5,” Tim said like he hadn’t just called it mindless rot. Damian laughed. He felt light. Perhaps he should allow himself to laugh more.

They sat in silence as the credits rolled down the screen. Tim broke the silence.

“So, are we good?” Ah. So they were acknowledging it. Interesting. Damian would like to opt out, please.

“Yes. We are...Good,” Damian answered stiffly. 

Tim was glancing over. He had his diplomatic face on, the one he used when Bruce was being unreasonable, or Jason looked about to bail, or a nervous informant needed swaying. It had always made Damian feel angrier. He didn’t want to be _handled_ . At least not like that. Like some sort of problem. “So...will I see you at patrol tonight, then? And the office tomorrow?” _Translation: are you done avoiding me?_

Damian gritted his teeth. He needed to not turn this into an argument. He liked tonight. And he liked the time they normally spent together. “Yes. I will be around.”

“Good. Good.” They were silent again. Damian was about to leave, when Tim began again. “Damian...I’m sorry I let it get that far. I knew it was a bad idea and...I’m older and I should have been responsible _—_ ”

“Tim. I am not a child. You are not responsible for my bad decisions. I wanted it. I enjoyed it. It is fine.”

“I know, I know. It just...occurred to me that you might not have. Done that. Before.” He hastened at Damian’s glare. “And I know virginity is a social construct and it's your body but it's just. Well it’s a new, particularly vulnerable experience and you deserve to share that with someone you care about, or at least someone you _trust_ , not _—_ ”

“ _Tim,_ ” he interrupted again. He took a breath and met Tim’s eyes directly, making sure he was clear as he spoke. Because by God, or Hera, or the universe or whatever, he would not be saying this again. “I _trust_ you. I trust you with my back, I trust you with my thoughts, I trust you with my _—_ my _body_. I wanted to feel good. I trusted you to do that. And you did. I was not traumatized, or injured, and as long as we are good as you say, then I am not upset. I am sorry if...you did not enjoy it _—_ ”

“No, no!” Tim looked dumbfounded, his diplomatic face gone. “I didn’t say that. It was good. _You_ were good. I was just worried I...took advantage of you or something. But you’re right. You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions. I’m sorry I questioned that. I, uh. I trust you too. So we’re good. No need for awkwardness or avoidance. Just uh, _please_ don’t tell Dick I took his baby brother’s innocence.”

“Agreed,” Damian scrunched his nose in distaste. He may have talked to Dick but that detail his mentor did not need. Ever. He stood. “I should get back. Patrol starts soon.”

“Right.” Tim walked him to the door. “I’ll, uh. See you then.” They exchanged awkward, manly nods which Stephanie would have mocked them for. Then he was moving out of the penthouse to the elevator. 

So that just happened. His face was a careful blank, one of the few masks he had mastered. But inside, he was buzzing. 

_Tim trusts me. Tim said it was good. Tim said_ I _was good._

_—·—_

Long after Damian had left, Tim stood stock still behind the front door. He hoped he didn’t look as shocked as he felt. Damian’s words echoed in his head. _I trust you with my back, I trust you with my thoughts, I trust you with my body_. That was…

Damian did not trust easily. He valued control of himself over all else, after having his life dictated for so long by Ra’s and Talia and the league. He trusted few with his back, fewer with his thoughts, and even fewer with his body. Apparently Tim was one of them. 

_He trusted me to take care of him and I didn’t even kiss him._

…

…

…

 _I should kiss him_.

…

…

No, that’s a damn bad idea. Bit late to give Damian the full experience. And he seemed to have enjoyed himself just fine. So. It was okay. He should just enjoy this new friends thing they had going. They actually had a lot in common, once they got past the resentment and competition. He still thinks they shouldn’t have slept together, but he could accept the blame wasn’t all on him. He would just have to make up for his half of the mistake, and be a good friend. It shouldn’t be difficult; he was still friends with just about all the people he’s slept with, casually or otherwise. So he knew what Damian’s dick looked like. They were superheroes, everyone knew what everyone’s junk looked like. It was a hazard of the job! It wouldn’t make things any more awkward than it had already been.

 _Yeah_ , he decided. _I’m gonna own this friend thing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, suggestion are very welcome!! I'm not especially sure what's coming up for these boys. Your comments feed my writing goblin. I'm also on Twitter @kittyinshadows_ and tumblr @kittyinshadows


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim decides he needs to prepare for being Damian's friend...by being a stalker. What? It's always worked for him before!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so warning for Tim being a bat and having no concept of personal boundaries. He basically stalks Damian. I don't think he ever suffered any consequences for being creepy as a kid so probably he never realized he...shouldn't.

Tim found it helpful in his everyday life to mentally organize the things he did the same way he did for work or heroing. And so he found himself with Mission: Be Damian's Friend. The first step in any mission is, of course, information gathering. 

He began by studying Damian's public social media. He had a public Twitter and Instagram, which were verified, with a few hundred thousand followers. Not as many as Dick, Tim, or Bruce, but still a reasonable amount. He followed the family back, as well as a few Gotham elite that Damian found less distasteful. There were also a few of his friends: Colin and Louisa from high school, Markus, and Jon. Then there were a few musicians and artists Damian liked, some celebrity cats and dogs, and things like National Geographic and Gotham Humane Society. 

For the most part, his posts were only shallowly personal. Pictures of his pets, or ‘vacations’ he had been on. A few activities with friends. The car he had gotten for his sixteenth. Vague posts whose dates usually related to disagreements he’d had with family. A shot from prom, a memorial for the passing of Titus, his senior portrait, and him accepting his diploma. One post from a week before his eighteenth which read, “Thank you to my Grandfather for this wonderful coming of age gift. It’s good to see you still understand young people so well,” with an attached image of Damian holding a box of cigars. His coming out post. 

And then, five months ago, the posts had changed. Beginning with his Pride post, Damian had begun posting thirst traps, in the mix of his normal content. And Tim had to admit...he was good at them. Or, more likely, his friend Markus was good at them. All of his outfits and poses highlighted his body enticingly. He looked like an invitation, like he was begging Tim through the screen to come touch him. So why was Damian doing thirst traps anyway? Tim had backed him up to Bruce, argued that he was building his public alter ego, but he didn’t think that was true. Was it young rebellion? Did he just enjoy the attention? Or was he...into someone? 

Not long ago he would doubt Damian would do something like that for a man. But apparently Damian had been a virgin until him, despite definitely being interested in sex. He _had_ asked Tim for advice on how to deal with unwelcome emotions. And god knew the kid had no idea how to start a relationship the normal way. So...maybe. It was something to keep in mind. Damian might be interested in someone.   
The last time Tim gave Damian advice had gone...reasonably well. He thought that if Damian asked him for help with a guy he could probably manage that. 

Next was Damians personal Twitter. It was locked, but that didn’t mean anything to Tim. It showed a very different image of Damian’s interests. Martial artists, sword people, a few history accounts, two Robin fan accounts (Ha!), more musicians and artists, and then just...a bunch of men. Men and accounts which appreciated men. Appreciated mens’ forms, specifically. 

His biggest interest seemed to be leanly muscled men with assertive attitudes. Interesting, but not really valuable information to him.

Next was internet history. Damian didn’t really spend that much time online, other than for work and cases. It was interesting to see his thought process when he researched, though. Then there was the occasional youtube video, similar topics to his social media. And then porn. He didn’t just use free services, instead having a subscription to one couples website. Most of the videos seemed to involve the smaller, twinkier man topping his bigger boyfriend. Tim felt less concerned about taking advantage of Damian. Clearly the guy had a kink which Tim was able to fill. 

He hacked the security footage at the Titans Tower to see what Damian did with his friends there. Mostly it seemed they sparred and practiced and various weird physical competitions, but Damian would sometimes join in playing video games _—_ wait, no, video game, singular. And of course the brat would refuse to learn more than one damn game. The thought makes him feel oddly fond. Five years ago it would have annoyed him to no end. 

The last research he did had to wait a week until Damian went down to Smallville for a day. The early afternoon, when Bruce was at work and Alfred was on an errand, Tim entered the Manor and made his way to Damian's room. It wasn't locked or trapped _—_ Damian had stopped doing that at fourteen when he realized no one wanted to go in his room. So Tim just opened the door and slowly entered, careful not to touch or disturb anything. The last time he had been here had been… well. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to the room. He'd been more focused on getting Damian's toys. But now he knew… Quite a bit about that aspect of Damian. He needed information on everything else. Things they could do together, things they could talk about. 

Above the mantle of his fireplace was Damian’s weapons collection...which admittedly looked cool as shit. There was a desk surrounded by bookshelves filled more with binders of casework and sheet music than books, as well as some knick knacks and more daggers. Another desk held an easel and a multitude of art supplies. On the easel was a sketchbook opened to a half done drawing of a face. The eyes were startlingly realistic, staring back at him from the center of a rough circle, frowny face line in place of a mouth. Against one wall was a music stand and violin case. 

The room was neater than Tim’s but was still lived in. Almost all of the clothes had made it into the hamper, but there was still a clothes chair in one corner with what looked like some sweats. A half empty water bottle sat on the nightstand, a trash can stood within tossing distance from the bed, and beneath the nightstand an escrima stick sat in case of intruders. On the walls there hung a mixture of pictures of friends, family, and pets, things Damian drew and painted, and artwork he had gotten as gifts. Some of the various knick knacks Tim recognized from cases or family. Others he didn’t, and it made him happy to know that Damian had managed to build a life outside of just the family. 

His closet was an interesting mix of Damian’s normal plain attire _—_ henleys, turtlenecks,plain long-sleeved shirts, all in black of course _—_ and his recent forray into queer chic _—_ crop tops, tanks, blouses, shirts with strange cuts, and what looked like a single cocktail dress. His bathroom had a first aid kit, a few simple hair and skin products, the fancy razor that Bruce had got them all hooked on, and, sitting proud on the counter, what was definitely Damian’s favorite dildo. 

He could have looked deeper, gone through notes and drawers, looked at his sketchbooks, but Tim decided he had enough information. He knew what Damian liked to do, what they could talk about. Music, art, games, and vigilante work. Tim felt prepared to move onto the next step of Mission: Be Damian's Friend. 

After information gathering came observation. Tim dedicated three days to observing Damian whenever he had the time. Tim, of course, was an expert at watching people without being seen. At work he had Damian help him sort through some files. He had him sit on the couch across the room surrounded with papers. As Tim worked, he carefully studied Damian. The way his brows crinkled with focus. The pull of his lips when he read something stupid. The shifting of his muscles when he got too tense. How his eyes darted across the pages, quickly taking in information and cataloging it. When Damian had to go do some other task, he noticed the way Damian spoke with a coworker; how he had managed to contain his annoyance in a way he couldn’t two years ago.Tim noticed the way Damian’s cheek twitched when the coworker demanded he come along, but he maintained his fake smile all the same. 

He went to dinner at the Manor on the second day. He listened to the conversation Damian made with Dick and Bruce, adding his usual occasional comment. He took note of what topics made Damian sit up more in his seat, and what had his eyes idly sliding away. He saw the way Damian swallowed green beans without tasting, and Alfred’s tiramisu had him making a noise like what Tim had caused not that long ago. When Dick brought up the latest superhero relationship drama, Damian’s eyes darted over, caught Tim’s for a split second, and then darted away. So he was still feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Tim couldn’t blame him, so was he. And probably worried about people finding out; then they would be the newest superhero gossip. 

During patrols he lurked in the coms all night, instead of just when he was hailed. He listened to which chatter made Damian scoff, which jokes he laughed at, and what made him end the call. When they crossed paths he paid special attention to Robin’s fighting, like he had back when they didn’t get along, only with a different reasoning. What moves Robin preferred, what dangers he was more wary of, which criminals he was more or less contained with. Once, after a fight in hotspot alley concluded, he saw a little community cat come trotting up to Damian, who crouched to pull a treat from a pouch on his belt. He scritched its head and scooped it up to carry it a block over to its owner’s open window. 

Having done his research and observation, Tim felt prepared to step three of Mission: Be Damian's Friend. It was time for action. Slow, carefully planned action, but action all the same. 

The next day at work Damian stopped by with a task from some other department head, and before he left Tim asked, “Lunch today?” Damian agreed, and a few hours later brought sandwiches and coffee from the shop a few blocks away. They pushed some of Tim’s papers to the side and spread their feast across his desk. 

Before Tim could bring up one of his carefully crafted topics, Damian was bitching about Mr. Alvaris, the old stooge who was head of Marketing. And then Tim found himself jumping in, because that ass had been a misery to work with when he had been CEO. 

“Why does he even work here still? He asked me to fax those documents to you. Fax it, Tim,” Damian groused.

Tim sighed. “Because he’s retiring in two years and is unfortunately damn good at his job.”

“-tt-.”

“Hey do you want to make him even more awful to work with but it’s worth it because it’ll upset him more than you?”

Damian looked at him with interest. “Do go on.”

“Get one of those rainbow pins and put it on your pocket. It’ll drive his homophobic ass up the wall, but you’re _Damian Wayne_ so he won’t be able to disrespect you, which will make him even angrier.”

Damian laughed, gleeful and vindictive. “That’s perfect. Truly your talents as an evil genius are wasted here.”

After lunch was over and they both returned to their jobs, Tim felt pretty good. He had done so much planning, but in the end hanging out together was just...natural. Damian had bitched and joked and laughed without any nudging. Maybe this friends thing wouldn’t be hard. He still was glad he had done his research, having more information on the situation was always a good thing. But now he felt reassured that he wouldn’t need to be drawing on it every time they saw each other. He could just push his plans into storage and bring them out next time things got awkward. 

Yeah. Mission: Be Damian's Friend was going great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally a reasonable response to wanting a friend...right? These are friendy friend emotions for sure!  
> Unsure how often updates will be bc school is over, but it went really bad so I'm not in a great mental space for creating :/ As always comments keep me going. Let me know what you think, and what you want to see from me <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim and Damian have their first fight as 'friends', and Damian volunteers himself for something he probably shouldn't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. Hello. Been awhile. Right after the first chapter of this fic my best friend came to quarantine with me for a month and we had like, a holy writer's space going on on the couch with our laptops. Then she had to go home and also the plague boredom turned from inspiration to sadness and also the world is in a right state. This chapter was like pulling teeth. Let me know what you think, suggestions, etc. Hope I can make you all a little bit happier.

Damian was not used to purposeful friendships. Most of his were the result of acquaintanceships with overtly friendly people who one day called him 'friend' and he simply didn't deny it. Tim was not overtly friendly. Tim was excellent at acting like an extrovert, to people at work or on missions, but Damian had always hated that false side of him. He didn't want to be around Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne… He wanted to be around _Tim_. He didn't know how to will a friendship into place. He wasn't sure Tim did either. But they were freaking Robin and Red Robin… They could figure it out. And even if they were bad at it, Damian would just enjoy being in the same room, looking at Tim's stupid pretty face. 

He thought it was going well though. The time they spent together was enjoyable, conversation flowed easily if more bitchy than most. They still weren't best friends, by any means, and most of their time was spent other places, but they were working better together at the office and patrols, and occasionally spent time just… Hanging out. It seemed like Tim was acting differently around him...but he couldn’t tell, exactly. Tim had always been an excellent actor, rivaling Dick and Father. Things were the same. But they were also not. Awkward silences didn’t last as long, Tim always having something new to say. He was a little more...open. He talked about things that he never would have told Damian a year ago. Brought up music and art, things he never thought Tim had paid attention to. Things about him that he didn’t know Tim noticed. It felt good to be seen, to be known. To know that Tim cared enough to remember...even when they hadn’t gotten along.

Being Tim's friend was… Nice. 

—·—

Tim was being a bitch. Normally on patrol, Red Robin was put together, quick thinking, with occasional banter interrupting a Batman like stoicism. This night, however, Red Robin was a bitch. Things that would normally annoy enraged him, and things that he would brush past annoyed him. His banter and jokes all edged into cutting and cruel. It had been like this the last two nights. Yesterday, after a particularly scathing comment about nothing important at all, Stephanie had come onto the coms and said, “ _Okay_. I’m done for the night. Actually, I think I’ll take the week off. If there’s trouble, don’t let me know. Peace.” 

“What’s her deal?” Red Robin grumbled. Damian barely managed to hold in his own rude comment. 

It was no better today. Which was why Damian had Oracle directing him to intercept Red Robin’s patrol. He touched down on a rooftop and slid behind an AC unit to wait. Red Robin normally passed by there on his usual patrol route. A few minutes went by before he heard the thump of Red Robin touching down, footsteps rapid as he sped across the roof. Right before he would pass Damian by, he stuck a foot out in his way. Red Robin tripped, hurtling towards the roof at high speed. He tucked into a roll and had his bo staff out and swiping at Damian before even coming out of a crouch. It collided with his shin guards, but he let the force help him move backwards, away. When Red Robin saw who had ambushed him he growled, “What the _fuck_?” and swung his staff down again. Damian drew his blade—sadly blunted—up to meet it. 

Over the coms, Oracle questioned, “Red Robin? What’s happening?”

Red Robin’s voice was angry as their weapons met, the two moving around the rooftop like dancers. “What _happened_ is Robin attacked me!” Red Robin swept his staff low to unbalance him. Damian jumped and aimed a high kick for his opponent's head, which was easily dodged. “I _thought_ we were past this shit!” He planted his staff down and used the length to launch himself at Damian

They continued to trade pulled blows, which eventually dissolved into weapons being discarded, dodging fists and feet. Ignoring the voices over the coms telling them to calm down, the fight turned to childish grabbing and shoving. Red Robin was yanking at his hair, Damian was gripping those stupid bandoleers, and he was considering punching at those stupid, lush, scowling lips when suddenly he was weightless. His feet no longer touched the rooftop. The back of his collar was pulled from his back, the front suddenly tight around his throat. In front of him, Red Robin's white-outs were wide, and his face slack with surprise. Turning to the side, they were met with Batman’s glowering face. Batman, who had picked them up by the scruff of their necks like a daycare worker would with tousling children. 

...Oops. 

“Robin. Red Robin,” his voice was a growl. And not his happy growl. “ _Heel_.”

The let go of each other, arms mirroring each other as they crossed, petulant. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

“He started it!” Red Robin rushed to accuse, voice as bitchy as it had been for days.

“I did not!”

“ _You_ attacked me!”

“I tripped you! You’re the one who escalated!”

“So you started it!”

“Only because you’ve been acting like a bitch!”

They were shaken from their shouting by Batman, literally shaking them up and down.

“Enough. Patrol is over. We will talk about this at the Cave. Get in the Batmobile. Backseat. Both of you.” He set them back down. They both settled their glares at their feet, and followed Batman down to the street. They sat on opposite sides of the car, leaning as far away as they could and glowering out the windows. The drive is completely silent, even the car's engine a barely there purr. 

At the cave they’re greeted by Dick’s patented Disappointed Big Brother look. The one that makes both Damian and Tim feel like they’re twelve years old and desperate for their hero’s approval. What Dick didn’t understand was that desire for his approval was the source of many of their childhood fights. Neither of them could grasp that Dick had room in his heart for them both, having had to fight for every scrap of love they received. Now Dick was looking at them like they were once again 11 and 17...and it made Damian feel like he was.

“Really guys?” Damian almost felt guilty...until stubborn defensiveness overtook it. 

“He started it,” Damian said, and it sounded much more immature outside of his mouth than he had planned. The reactions were probably to be expected. Dick sighed, Father pinched the bridge of his nose, and Tim—

“ _I started it?!_ _You_ attacked _me!_.” His gaze, which had been pointedly avoiding looking Dick in the eyes, swung around to glare.

“Oh my god,” said Dick in the background.

“I _said_ I just tripped you.” Damian’s arms were crossed, posture ramrod straight, the immovable object to Tim’s unstoppable force. 

Tim’s arms swung wide, gesturing emphatically, pushing his anger into movement. “Are you seriously doing this shit again? God, you’re such a brat. You attack me and of course it’s my fault, huh?”

“Dick, could you please…?”

“ -tt- Well you deserved it. Make of that what you will.”

“Oh jesus, yeah I’ve got it.”

“Oh I _deserved_ it. Just like I deserved it when you tried to kill me? You know what I think? You deserve my _foot_ up your _ass_!”

“Wouldn’t be the first th—”

“Okay let’s break it up guys!” Dick jumped between them, hands up with a placating smile. Just in time to keep Damian from snapping something very unfortunate in front of their audience. He and Tim realize this at the same moment—Damian feels his angry flush disappear right as he sees the same on Tim. Dick is still talking over them. “Let’s all get changed, and have this conversation upstairs with a cup of tea.” He slung his arms around their shoulders, and ushered their suddenly calm bodies along. They were placed on opposite sides of the room to change; in the elevator both Dick and Father stood between them. At the small kitchen table they were placed across from each other, Dick’s long legs conveniently stretched under the table between them. 

“So. Damian, you’re upset with Tim.”

“Hmph.”

“Right. Could you tell us what you’re upset about?”

“He’s being a bitch.”

“You’re a bitch,”Tim mumbled, like a bitch.

Dick’s diplomat smile twitched. “See, that? That’s what we call unhelpful.”

Damian shrugged.

“What exactly has he been doing that’s annoying you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know exactly what he’s been doing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim bristled. “Dick, what does he mean?”

Dick’s smile twitched again. “Tim. You’ve just been...a little ornery the last few days."

" - tt- If by ornery you mean extremely passive aggressive and bordering on cruel, than yes, he has been 'a little ornery.'"

"Wh—I have not."

"You have been so moody that Stephanie took the week off."

Tim looked taken aback. "Okay, even if I had been acting like that, which I'm not, Steph _loves_ when people are bitchy. She voluntarily watches Gotham Housewives."

"She does. You have been _so_ bitchy that it is too much even for her. Quite a feat."

"...Really?” He looks at Dick, who hesitates, and then nods once. “Shit.”

 _Ha_ , Damian thinks, and then felt bad about it because Tim was starting to look less annoying and more like a kicked dog.

“Did you really have to atta—sorry, _trip_ me though?”

He shrugs a little. “I knew you wouldn’t talk to us about whatever is upsetting you, so I resolved to get you alone and _make_ you talk. Then we could fix your problem and you would stop being a bitch and go back to being my friend.”

There was a long, surprised pause. “That’s...almost sweet. Okay. Sorry I...assumed you were trying to hurt me. But next time just text me, okay?”

Damian thought this over. “...That is acceptable.”

Dick’s smile was more genuine. Even a year ago they wouldn’t have been able to resolve a tiff between themselves. “Good. We know why Damian was mad. Now why is Tim mad?”

Tim wrinkled his nose, screwed up his pretty lips. “Do I have to?”

“Tim,” Father grumbled, the first thing he had said since the roof.

“Ugh. Fine. It’s just. Stupid.”

“Don’t make me trip you again,” Damian reached out to nudge Tim with his foot. 

Tim huffed, _totally_ not bitchy. “Yeah, yeah. It’s Tam. She’s being promoted to Junior Executive. And. I should be happy for her. I _am_ happy for her. She deserves this. She works her ass off, she’s great at her job. She probably should’ve moved up years ago but I just...kept giving her raises so she would stay. I know her skills are wasted as my assistant. At this point she could probably do my job better than me. But now I have to—to _find_ a new assistant and _train_ them, and they won’t know how anything is done and even if they’ve been an assistant before _my_ way is the right way. And they won’t know about my identity so I’ll have to make all these excuses for why I’m tired or coming in late or leaving the country mysteriously. I know I can handle it, I’ve been lying to people since I learned to talk, it’s just. It’s fucking _annoying_.”

Damian wasn’t proud of what happened next. He wouldn’t be able to explain why he did it. He didn’t think of doing it. Didn’t plan out what to say or even if he wanted to. He was standing there, watching Tim mope, when he heard his own voice say:

“I can do it.”

_Oh fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Damian just volunteered himself to be Tim's new assistant! Will he be able to get himself out of it? Well it wouldn't be very sexy if he did, so...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has his first day on the job~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhh, heyyyyyyyyyy....been awhile. Here's a short chapter.   
> also, WE HAVE ART but i forgot to link it last chapter,,,,  
> from the lovely rottencloset we have chapter 7 crying Dami art >:3  
> https://twitter.com/rottencloset/status/1260724651640020992?s=20

“I can do it,” Damian heard himself say, and immediately regretted all his choices.

_ Abort mission, abort mission, abort mission. _

Tim, with his stupid tube hood pulled up to sit amidst his helmet hair, didn’t even bother to hide his surprise. Damian couldn’t blame him, considering he was just as surprised. He needed to take it back. A simple,  _ actually that’s a bad idea _ , everyone would agree, and they would all move on. 

“That’s an excellent idea,” Father said.

“What?” Damian and Tim spoke in unison.

“I’ve been thinking you’re ready for more responsibility but wasn’t sure where.”

“Oh,” said Damian, his hopes of escaping his bad decisions dashed against the rocks of his Father’s whims.

“I guess that would work. I won’t have to find anyone new. And you do already know most of how I do things.”

“See? An excellent idea.”

“Hmph. If you insist.” It would be an excellent idea. If they hadn’t fucked. They saw each other just about every day, but not for long periods of time, and though they were getting along fine it seemed like a bad idea to work quite so closely. 

“Then the job is your’s.”

And like that, Damian had a promotion. 

With the cause of their battle settled, Father made sure to scold them for their ill-timed fight, and they both agreed it wouldn’t happen again, though who could really say with them, and sent them away for the night. 

— · —

When Damian was at last free from the cruel grasp of his family, he carefully locked the door and threw himself face first onto his bed. It was 1:52 a.m., on a Wednesday, an early night for him, and he absolutely wouldn’t be falling asleep after that disaster. He was torn between pride over his progress being acknowledged, over finally getting a promotion, and pooling dread because  _ he had erred. _

**Damian:**

_ I fucked up _

**Markus:**

_ Oh? Is Damian “God’s gift to earth” Wayne admitting to making a human mistake? _

**Damian:**

_ Markus. _

**Markus:**

_ Sorry sorry whatd u do _

**Damian:**

_ I accidentally volunteered to work with The Guy _

**Markus:**

_ LOL _

**Damian:**

_ Shut up this is serious I’m fucking doomed _

**Markus:**

_ Can u back out? Like srry but i have too much on my plate rn or smthn? _

**Damian:**

_ No I said it in front of my father and he said, and i quote “That’s an excellent idea. I’ve been thinking you’re ready for more responsibility but wasn’t sure where.” _

**Markus:**

_ Holy shit that’s like a sonnet in Distant Rich Father speak _

_ Like thats 2nd only to sitting in the dark listening to cats in the cradle staring mournfully at ur baby picture on the mantle _

**Damian:**

_ Uh _

_ Bit specific _

_ But also sounds like him _

_ Still doesn’t help me  _

**Markus:**

_ It might not be that bad _

_ Sexy workplace romance _

_ Rendezvous in an empty confrnce room at lunch _

**Damian:**

_ No it will be awkward for him and miserable for me _

**Markus:**

_ Y _

**Damian:**

_ I may have. Perhaps. Slept with him. _

**Markus:**

_ DSFDFDKSFJKDAJFSK YOU FUCKING WHAT NOW _

_?????  _

_ WHEN??? _

**Damian**

_ Early october _

**Markus:**

_ And u didnt tell me??? _

_ MY PLAN WORKED _

**Damian:**

_ It didn’t work _

_ I was in the city and got wasted, and his place was right there so I just went there to crash. Came onto him, he refused since I wasn’t in my right mind. And in the morning we were both clearly horny so I propositioned him and he didn’t agree until I assured him multiple times that it wasn’t a big deal and just friends helping each other out. And he pointedly didn’t kiss me. _

**Markus:**

_ ,,,,, _

_ Yeah its gonna be awkward and miserable _

_ Rip _

**Damian:**

_ Thanks _

**Markus:**

_ Ur welc _

_ So was it worth it? _

**Damian:**

_ Honestly? _

_ Yes _

_ But i guess we’ll see, won’t we? _

**Markus:**

_ gl king  _

  
— · —   
  


Damian began his ill advised promotion on the Monday that Tam began her well advised one. He spent the first twenty minutes of the day getting his new company I.D., complete with lab access. The moment he arrived at Tim’s office a tablet was thrust into his hands and they set off at a brisk walk. 

As he followed Tim around the labs, taking notes on his meetings with various project head’s, he asked something he’d never bothered to before.

“Are you qualified for this?”

Tim, several strides ahead of him, stopped. “What?”

“All of these researchers are fifty year old men with multiple PHD’s. Are you qualified to be their boss?”

Tim looked surprised he was asking. “Oh. No I’m totally not. I’m a high school drop-out who got a GED at 19 and no college education or official scientific background. Me having this job is blatant nepotism.”

“And they’re ok with this?”

“Well. You know Bruce wouldn’t keep me in this position if I weren’t good at it.” Damian did not know that, but he nodded anyway. Tim gestured for them to keep walking while they talked. “Right. So basically the guy retired, and the position was empty for a few weeks before Bruce put me there...the week before yearly project reports were due. So they all just kind of...decided to wait a couple weeks before ousting me. And in that time I managed to impress them.”

“How?”

“Well, most researchers don’t like the business side of science. They work here so they don’t have to bother with teaching or applying for grants. I handle the things they don’t want to, make sure they get the resources and assistants and funding they need. I do my best to know them and their work as well. I read all their publications, and I read all references, and keep an eye out for new works in their fields. These are men who when asked about their work by relatives have to dumb it down to a five word description or get blank stares. ‘I’m an engineer.’ ‘Oh like bridges?’ ‘I’m a geneticist.’ ‘Oh like Monsanto?’ ‘I’m a psychiatrist’ ‘Oh like Harley Quinn?’ For someone who doesn’t have any background or particular stake in the field to take interest in their research? And work to understand what they do? That’s valuable. They know they can come to me with an idea and if I don’t understand it, I’ll come back the next day and have taught myself. Even Bruce only pays attention to the ones he finds personally useful. So I’m not qualified for this position...but my employees like me, so that doesn’t matter.”

“That’s admirable,” is what Damian said.  _ That’s attractive _ , is what he thought.

Apparently every Monday Tim goes to all the labs and checks on all the projects, asking about progress, if they need anything, and making sure that everything is going smoothly. Today, Damian came with him, and got introduced to every single employee of R&D in the labs. They all receive the same spiel:

“This is Damian, he’s replacing Tam. If anyone needs anything, come to him, just like you would Tam or me.”

Hundreds of new names and job titles float around his mind and his notebook. He wasn’t sure which to keep and which to discard as unimportant. Tim would probably say they were all important, down to the last part-time intern. When they finally returned to Tim’s office, minutes before the day ended, Tim handed him a thick file. 

“This is some general information of all the research we’re currently doing. You should acquaint yourself with it.”

The stack was 4 inches thick. He had sex toys shorter than it. When was he supposed to read these? He had patrol tonight. He had patrol  _ with Tim _ tonight. 

What had he signed himself up for... 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's a shit boss. But that's okay, because at least he's hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all my love to @rottencloset on twitter for beta'ing this chapter <3 go check them out they are the wellspring of much of my Damian horny inspo  
> Also this chap includes a Damian fantasy which is purposefully written in the style of a trashy romance novel, so be prepared lmao

"What are you doing?" asked the thug Damian sat atop. 

"None of your business," said Damian, and turned a page. 

The thug, bound at wrist and ankle, wiggled around to peer behind himself. "Are you _reading_ right now?" 

Damian kicked him, and he fell back on his face onto the pavement. "Shut up."

"Why are you _reading_ while sittin’ on me. Don't you got somewhere to be?" 

"-tt- it's homework. And someone has to assure you lot get to the police."

"You have homework? Who gives Robin homework?" 

Damian huffed and smacked the sheaf of paper against the thug’s head. "And what would you suggest I do when my boss comes up and says 'Read these by tomorrow.' Say 'I'm sorry I can't, I'm a superhero'?" 

"Hm. I guess not." For a short while the thug was blissfully quiet, and he turned several more pages. "... What's it about?" 

"Oh my _fucking—_ " Damian stood up enough that when he dropped back down the thug let out an 'oof'. “You are more talkative than the fucking Joker.”

The man wiggled angrily. “Ay! Don’t gotta be rude!”

“-tt-” Two paragraphs passed.

“...Are you gonna tell me?”

“AGH! _Fine_. It’s about using VR for cognitive behavior therapy.”

“Oh! Like exposure therapy for OCD or PTSD?”

“Well—Yes, actually. Who are you exactly?”

“Aha, yeah. I used to major in psychology, actually.”

“Hmph. What’s with Gotham villains and psychiatry?”

A sharp laugh was surprised out from the thug. “Not like that. I had to drop out because of health issues. I’m doin’ better now, obviously. Jus’ tryna get the money to go back. My cousin tol’ me this was a good way to get some quick cash.”

“...Ah. Will you be able to go back after being arrested like this?”

“Uh. Prolly not, but that’s how they getcha, ain’t it? Let your new thugs get arrested once an’ then you gotta guaranteed workforce. Pretty smart actually.”

Damian scowled from his perch and nudged the thug’s ribs with the heel of his boot. “Don’t make excuses. You chose to rob a museum. You won’t get any sympathy from me.”

It wasn’t uncommon for their enemies to try and talk their way out of arrest. Admittedly this one was more genuine seeming than most, but he wouldn’t be swayed by pretty words.

That said, when he handed the group of hired thugs—none of whom he had battled before—he had a more concerned frown on his face than usual. 

—·—

Tim, Damian was discovering, was a fucking _annoying_ boss. He’d sent him home with a dozen articles, but when he got there that morning Tim didn’t ask about them. Just looked at him with grumpy eyes and said, “Coffee?” Damian did not have coffee. At no point had Tim informed him the previous day that one of his responsibilities was providing coffee. He hadn’t known that Tam had done so. He should have figured, of course. God forbid that Tim bring his own coffee to work. Just like Father. Or himself, when he drank the stuff. It wasn’t even the expectation that annoyed him, it was that he hadn’t been told. But. It was his second day, and Tim hadn’t trained anyone, ever. So. 

He gritted his teeth, and said, “I’ll go get some.”

Tim, the bastard, wrinkled his stupid, handsome nose, and replied, “Not from the break room, I hope.”

Damian took a very deep breath. “Of course not. Which of the seven pretentious coffee shops on this street would you prefer?”

Tim didn’t smile at that, but his lips did move from a frown to neutral, which for 10am Tim was as good as a smile. “The Indonesian place two blocks west? Just say it's for me; they know my order and I have a tab.”

“You have a _tab_ at a _coffee shop?_ ”

“Well, I am their biggest investor.”

“That is the most unsurprising thing I have ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, well. Off you go.”

35 minutes later Damian was back with Tim’s coffee. He’d had to stop at a _different cafe_ because Tim’s didn’t sell the calming chamomile tea he greatly needed that morning. Tim did not thank him, of course. Simply grunted a slightly pleased acknowledgment. _Bitch_. 

—·—

Tim had a corner office on the R&D office floor, and a smaller attached waiting room of sorts at the entrance. This was where Damian’s desk was. The second day was spent with Damian familiarizing himself with a random assortment of tasks which Tim had written him on a scrap piece of paper. At random intervals of time Tim's voice would come over the intercom, tetchily demanding why something hadn't been done only for Damian to ask what the fuck he's talking about. Then Tim would spend however much time explaining the task and when and how and why Damian needed to do it. 

As Damian sorted through his new company email full of things forwarded from Tam's old one, Tim came out once again. Damian looked at the clock; it was 14 minutes until he clocked out. God dammit. Tim slapped a pile of papers down on his desk, leaning one hand on the corner. He was looking down his nose at Damian in a thoroughly frustrating way. 

“Why did you put these on my desk?” Tim asked. 

He looked at the stack. Looked at Tim. Back to the stack. “Because they are for you.”

"But do I _need to see them?"_

He rifled through several pages. "These require your signature." 

Tim sighed, annoyed. _Yeah well. Join the club._ "Just because it asks for my signature doesn't mean I need to see it."

"That is literally exactly what it means."

"Okay, look." Oh, and now Tim was pulling a chair around to sit next to him. He glanced at the clock. 12 minutes. He was not getting out of here on time. "Lesson time. Your most important job is to decide what I actually need to deal with. And for what I don't, your job is to be Timothy Drake Wayne. So let's look at all these, I'll tell you why I don't give a fuck about them, and then I'll show you how to do my signature."

"...Okay." Why had he accepted this job? Why??? 

—·—

When Tim was annoyed with bureaucracy he ran his left hand through his hair, leaving it delightfully tousled. Maybe this job was okay. 

—·—

There was a… _woman_ in accounting who very much desired a workplace romance with Tim. She was in charge of handling expenditures and such for R&D, but the topic of every one of her visits to Tim's office could have much more easily been handled over email. If they needed talking to Tim at all. Damian had tried to apprehend her once, to handle the small matter for Tim as was his job, but the woman simply insisted she talk to Tim and moved past him to let herself into his office. He wanted to stop her, to be rude and foul and make her leave, but she moved too quick for Not a Superhero Damian Wayne to do so. 

He was certain of her amorous intent. When with Tim she flirted blatantly; smiled too coyly, giggled too hard at things that weren't funny, brushed their fingers together. He wasn’t sure if Tim noticed. Such a good actor he was that Damian couldn’t tell if he didn’t see the flirting, or if he was pretending not to. 

He should ignore it. He had no claim over Tim, and besides, Tim didn’t seem interested in her. But it _irked_ him. That this harpy, this stranger, got to flirt so openly with Tim and he _couldn’t._ She didn’t know him at all, didn’t know what he liked, didn’t know his hobbies or past or pet peeves. Didn’t know what his hands, his teeth, felt like. It wasn’t fair.

But, nothing ever was. So he breathed deeply, ignored her too sharp laugh, and returned to his much more important job as Tim’s second in command.

—·—

The one good thing to come from this job was the fantasies. He had long since given up on _not_ imagining Tim’s dick, even before he had such wonderful fuel for the fire. Now that he knew what he was missing _and_ saw Tim at work all day every day? There was no point resisting. 

Most prominent amongst his new material was the time, his third day on the job, when Damian filed something slightly wrong and Tim had _snapped_ at him. Nothing that bothered Damian, and nothing beyond their usual bickering but. Well. Something about it had just made him… _mmm_ shiver. The rest of the day he kept almost filing things wrong just to see if Tim would bend him over that solid desk and fuck his brains out. But he didn’t because he wouldn’t, and Damian didn’t actually enjoy constant antagonism. 

The point was, his days were filled with lurid imaginations, and every night ended with at least one orgasm. His poor, abused ass was so well-used he barely needed to stretch himself anymore. He had recently made an enticing addition to his collection but, well. It wasn’t the sort of thing to use in a 20 minute wank. He needed _time_ and _privacy_ for this. So when Father told him he’d be leaving the next morning on some League business, he knew this was his chance. That morning before work he asked Alfred to take the afternoon off because he was, “Hoping to have a break from human interaction.” He sped through the day, soaking up Tim’s every move with thirsty eyes. Once home he carefully locked the door, shuttered his curtains, turned off his phone, and began his Preparations. 

Sleeping with Tim had been...everything he could ask for. That said, there were a few things he wished were different. One, that they had been facing each other. Two, that Tim had kissed him. Three, that Tim had cum in him. There wasn’t anything to be done about the first two, but cum could be replicated on his own. His two new purchases were a dildo with a cum tube, and a bottle of fake cum. 

First he eased a plug into himself, then filled his sink up with hot water and set the cock and bottle into it. While that warmed, he cleared off his desk and set it up with a towel, lube, and a vibe. He used the special syringe to fill the dick with the now warm fluid. Toy placed on the desk with it's fellows, he climbed up with them, closed his eyes, and sunk into fantasy. 

_Tim presses him back, back against the desk. His icy blue gaze pierces his own, sending a shiver down his spine. Tim's hands run up from knee to thigh, sliding into the space between his legs and_ shoving _them apart, exposing his plugged hole for all to see._

_"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." Tim purrs._

_"What a coincidence. I could say the same thing," Damian says, pleased._

_"Shut up, brat," Tim punctuates by roughly pushing one of Damian's legs up by his ear, making the plug jolt in place._

_He moans, barely able to get out a, "Make me."_

_"Maybe I will," Tim chuckles darkly, and pulls the plug out. His entrance flutters around the empty space. Damian can't help the desperate whine that leaves his lips. "Next time you'll think twice before you fuck up your job, won't you?"_

_"Maybe if your system weren't so arbitrary I wouldnnnnaaaaa~~" he’s cut off as two fingers slide inside him, skimming his walls as they go deeper before scissoring wide and dragging back out._

_"Sorry, were you saying something?"_

_"Y-ye-e-essss. Yes, I'll be. I'll be more careful!"_

_"Aren't you missing something there?" Those fingers keep opening him wider, just barely missing the special spot he needs so badly to have touched._

_"Sir! Yes, sir! I'll be more careful sir! Please, please, I need—"_

_"That's more like it." he adds a third finger, pressing them all right against his prostate. Damian bites his lip, breathing hard and trembling through the assault._

_When Tim removes his fingers, he doesn’t ask if Damian is ready. Just slicks his cock and thrusts in, spearing Damian around him and sets a rough pace._

Eventually the stimulation became too much to focus on a fantasy. His head tilted back against the desk, hooded eyes fuzzily focused on the ceiling as he moved the toy just so. The feeling of being stretched around something hot and thick was quickly getting him close, but he couldn't come yet. 

Both hands moved down to the toy, and he shoved it as deep as it could go, squeezing it in the way that had it releasing inside him. Wet heat flooded his guts and his red lips parted around an involuntary, "Ah!" Gasping pants followed as he clenched down around the toy. One hand moved to his weeping dick, quickly tugging the few times it needed to push him into orgasm. 

He closed his eyes, focusing all his mind on the way the orgasm felt coursing through him, trying to bask in it as long as possible. 

Eventually the ecstasy passed, and he was left with sleepy satisfaction. He tilted his hips up, relaxed his muscles, and carefully removed the toy, replacing it with the plug. Then he gingerly lowered his legs to the ground, wiped himself down, and climbed into bed. God he'd loved that. Already he was planning the next session in approximately twenty minutes when his poor dick had recovered. He'd liked the feeling of the release deep inside, but he was thinking next he could try it just inside his entrance, then fuck the cum into himself. Maybe even discard the toy and fingerfuck his wet hole. Or… Oh. He was hard again. Perfect. 

He pulled the plug out and slid two fingers in. Fuck, he was drenched. Every thrust brought quiet squelching sounds, and the slide was deliciously smooth. It was so easy to press his fingers around to find his prostate with every move. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, eyes transfixed on his glistening fingers disappearing within himself. If he wasn't careful he would— **_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_ **

"Damian!" He jumped in place, biting right through the skin of his lip and yanked his fingers out at the wrong angle, leaving his entrance stinging. "I know you're in there, Little D! Sorry to interrupt your afternoon off but, uh, _there's kind of a supervillain downtown._ "

He sat very still, eyes wide. Fake cum and lube dripped from his fingers. 

… _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments water my crops and feed my family


	14. Boundaries Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to clean up the evidence of his afternoon activities, Damian once again has to save the city. This can't end well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of my bed long enough to throw some fanfiction at u* Those who follow me or are in discord, prepare urself for the infamous Shower Scene. To those who don't love creepy Tim, be prepared, I did a poll to decide how creepy he was here and the overwhelming decision was 'boundaries who?".  
> Thanks again to rottencloset for beta'ing. And AHHHHH we have more fanart from last chapter!!! All my love to @lunallachi on twitter <3 Go check it out!! https://twitter.com/lunallachi/status/1309122877212577794?s=20

He didn’t limp, running to the cave to suit up. Nor did he hiss when he seated himself on his bike. And he absolutely did not bitch to Dick about having his “nap” ruined. As they sped from Bristol to Gotham, Dick briefed him on the situation. The people Batman had joined the League to look into, a cult with cells in several major cities on the Eastern Seaboard, had somehow caught wind of the investigation and were now launching their plans early. Specifically, trying to set off chemical devices across the east coast, including Gotham. Batman was still with the League so it was up to the rest of them to save the city. Between Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Batgirl, Blackbat, and Robin, they had a lot of bodies to comb the city. But Red Robin and Oracle had narrowed it down to over two dozen possible device locations and they only had until midnight… Four hours from then. 

They all rendevouzed at Red Robin’s location, where he told them all where to search. Damian focused very hard on the map in order to avoid looking at Tim. To avoid thinking about the first feelings of fluid at his rim. This stayed at the back of his mind as he flew across the city, and as he began the search of his handful of buildings. Oracle was in and out of his ears, directing them all and checking in. Often, on nights without Batman, there would be bantering over the comms. That night, however, they were in a serious time crunch. Perhaps the others were chatting over a private line, but he was in no mood to keep his voice steady while he leaked fake cum. 

God he needed to move out. It had been somewhat of a matter of pride to him, staying at the manor past eighteen. Staying in his family home, where he would someday be the man of the house. Staying close to the batcave, to his calling. But, well. He didn't want to build his schedule around when Father was out. He'd like to have more than a single locked door between him and prying eyes. It would be… nice. To be independent. Just to have a house in the city, where everything belonged to him, and if anyone needed his help they could ring the damn doorbell. 

Then maybe he could think about dating. Someone who… Someone who looked nothing like Tim, really. Perhaps a hulking burly blond man, or a not white twink with absolutely no muscle definition. Or someone with tattoos and piercings who never wore suits? He could even date someone with a _good personality!_ Imagine that, having conversations and not getting into arguments! Although then he might have to temper his own shit one, so maybe he’d better focus on appearances first. Someone with _brown_ eyes. Anything except for pale skin, shiny black hair, icy blue eyes and a perfectly lean muscled body… 

Not important right now! 

Right now, he had four buildings to check for chemical weapons. The first, thankfully, was easily checked off. It clearly hadn’t had any activity for several months, as shown by the thick layers of dust on every single surface. He even took a swab of the dust, and it wasn’t anything like sawdust or chemical byproducts. Just the same nasty gray grime which could be found on anything sitting for long in Gotham. 

The second building was less easily handled. Activity was evident, dust cleared out in patches and scuffed paths. A window had a busted lock. He scoured every room until he found the homeless woman who lived there, and gave her the snacks in his belt in return for what she had seen. She hadn’t seen anyone here but her for the couple weeks she’d been squatting, and she seemed to be telling the truth. He left her with a card for one of the Wayne Foundation’s shelters and instructions to immediately evacuate if she saw anything out of the ordinary. 

As he swung across the roofs the first drips of thick liquid slipped out of him.

The third location was just a house, in an alright neighborhood. Of course, an alright neighborhood in Gotham was a shit neighborhood in any other city, so there’s that. A foreclosure sign sat out front, slightly dirty with unmowed grass grown up around it. The front door was locked, but a peer through the dirty windows showed wrappers and dirty footsteps. So he jumped the peeling fence gate and found the back sliding door still open. He went room by room, checking empty cabinets and behind sad shower liners. In the end it was just sitting in the middle of a former nursery, a battery powered fan aimed over it at the open window—which overlooked the nearby middle school. Fucking cults.

He immediately knew he wouldn’t be able to disable it. Besides the fact that it wasn’t a bomb, the device looked like a horrible conglomeration of bits and pieces perilously balanced upon each other. It looked like if he touched it it would fall apart or be sprung. He wasn’t about to risk it. Honestly he didn’t even want to risk inching around it to close the window. Stepping softly he checked the other rooms, looking out the windows and into closets for anything helpful. A couple yards over he spotted just the thing: a kiddie pool filled with dirty water and fallen leaves.

A couple more fences were hopped, and he quickly ran up to their front door. A little more liquid trickled out to soak the seat of his leggings. A car sat in the drive, and a dim light came from the upstairs windows, so he knew they were home. He propped the screen door open on his hip and began to knock heavily. When he was younger he would probably have just taken it, but that was kind of rude and he still had two whole hours. Eventually the sound of fast footfalls came. 

“What the fuck do you want this late—oh fuck, Robin.” The door opened to show a woman in a bathrobe, baseball bat in one hand. Upon seeing him her expression changed from angry annoyance to worry. “What’s going on? Do we need to evacuate?”

He didn’t beat around the bush. Any Gotham citizen knew what to do in these situations. “Probably not. There’s a chemical device two houses over, I just need your kiddie pool to put over top to contain it until the hazmat team can get here. Close all your windows if they aren’t already.” He holds out a fifty dollar bill from his belt. He didn’t know how much those things cost but they sure wouldn’t be getting it back. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. Um. Come in?” She warily took the bill from his hand and stepped aside. He slipped inside and walked through to the back door. A teenager with headphones on watched him walk through their living room with wide eyes. 

“Hey, mom, what the FUCK—” The back door swung closed behind him. Quickly he tipped the crud out, then tossed it over the fence the way he came. Back at the house he carefully entered the problem room and slowly lowered the downturned pool over the device, like a glass over flighty bug. With it settled without anything happening, he took the roll of duct tape from his belt and made a seal over the floor and the pool. 

And ta-da, problem solved. He flicked the fan off, closed the window, and turned on his com. “Oracle, dispatch hazmat to my current location. The device is temporarily contained but one wrong move could set it off. I have one more location to check and then I can start looking for the perpetrators.” 

“Good work, Robin. Hazmat is on it’s way.”

With that, he set off. The inner thighs of his leggings were now damp, but there was no time to think about it. He still had a long night ahead of him.

—·—

When they returned to the cave, just after 2a.m., they were all covered in patches of mysterious substances. At least one of the bombs had just had baking soda in it, but another had had magnesium powder, and another smelled strongly of bacteria, so they weren’t taking chances. Jason had tried to sneak away but Dick had grabbed his elbow and cheerily proclaimed that unless Jason had a secret decontamination shower he was coming to the cave with them. He hadn’t the energy to argue.

They all shuffled into the room with its sterile white tiles and two bright lights, girls to the right and guys to the left. Tim found himself following Damian to the nozzle closest to the exit. There was… A certain way one walked when trying to not limp; ignoring any and all pains. The rest of them were aching, tired, annoyed and their body language showed it. Damian was not. It wouldn't be unlike him to hide an injury. The water begins to spray them down, swirls of various substances running into the drains. He spent the five dull minutes watching Damian shift uncomfortably. There was definitely something wrong. Typical bats, always concealing injuries. He knew because he did it too. 

As they all stripped off their contaminated suits, Tim scanned Damian’s newly revealed body. There were no visible cuts or bruises, and all his joints seemed to be okay. Head? Fine. Arms? Fine. Back, fine, hips, fi—oh jesus christ that was _cum_! 

A flash of red hot… Panic? jolted through his body, jaw clenching and hands curling into fists. How dare Damian put him in this position? He didn't—he didn't need to know—he didn't _want_ to know this! He—he—he did not want to know that Damian was having sex with people other than him—that is, he didn't have any desire to know about his sex life past their brief mistake. He was just lucky it had been Tim standing here and not the others! Imagine the fit Dick would throw seeing that sort of evidence on his precious baby brother! And god save them all if _Bruce_ heard about it. Tim had been there at his unfortunate coming out, he didn't want to see what Bruce's safe sex lecture would be like. 

God, he's _pissed_ . Damian was too smart for this! He was a goddamn vigilante, he knew safe sex wasn't optional! Alfred made them take goddamn urine tests every two weeks! They knew every bullet point of each other's medical history and Tim had _still_ used a condom when they'd fucked, but Damian goes and lets a stranger cum in him? Oh god, was this his fault? Had he opened the door for Damian to sex, and now he was making bad choices? 

He quickly stepped up behind Damian, grasping his bicep. “Is your shoulder okay? Let me look at it,” he spoke loudly enough the others could hear, but not so loud as to warrant worry. His chest was only inches from Damian’s back. Damian flinched. Close to his ear, he hissed, “What the fuck are you thinking, not using a condom?!”

Beneath his palm Damian tensed, a choked gasp leaving his lips. "Let go," 

"If I step away there will be nothing to keep to keep Dick from seeing the _semen running down your thighs_. Do you really want to take that chance?" 

"No," tight and strangled. Tim very pointedly focused his gaze on Damian’s shoulder, and _not_ on the thick white fluid that was making its way out from toned cheeks to collect on his inner thigh, just out of the reach of streaming water.

"I can't believe you of all people are taking such an unnecessary danger."

"I don't see how it's any of your fucking business." 

"As long as you're a bat it is my business." 

"Go fuck yourself, Drake." 

"Oh, but you have that covered, don't you? Leaving work every day to spread your legs for anyone who asks, letting them _mark_ you. Not even bothering to clean yourself out. It's almost like you wanted to be caught. Did you want to be caught, Damian?" Vaguely he thought that he shouldn't be saying this. That he was crossing a whole lot of lines. But his brain wasn't in charge at that moment. The sharp red heat in his gut was controlling his tongue. 

" _No._ Dick came to get me and I didn't have time to—" 

"Sure you didn't. Well, you’re caught now. When you said goodbye to me this afternoon did you plan on slutting yourself out right after?" The hitch in Damian's breath at the question told him the answer was yes. He couldn't help the way his stomach tightened, the way his grip on Damian's arm became just a little bit too hard. "Lucky for you it was me. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"You won't?" 

"Of course." Tim's eyes darted down to Damian's thighs. A viscous drop was making its way down to meet the streaming water. How much was there that it was still leaking out? How many _rounds_ had it taken? He felt like he was sweating, but that was just the shower, surely. His too wet tongue darted out to coat his lips. The drop met the water and was gone. His eyes turned back to Damian's shoulder. "We had better keep it that way. Clean it up." 

For several long, long seconds neither spoke. When Damian finally did, he voice broke. "Wh _at_?" 

"You heard me. Turn around, and clean yourself out." 

In the background, the heavy beating of the showers, and low tired murmurs from the others. For a moment he thought he had crossed a line, that Damian would deck him and he'd be out an assistant… Until Damian turned around, met his eyes, and reached slowly behind himself.

Tim was vindicated. Of course Damian knew that Tim was looking out for him. That he just wanted to make sure the others didn't embarrass him. 

From Damian came a small, muffled noise that Tim recognized. It was the same nasal sound he'd made at the top of his throat every time Tim had thrust into him. A single, telling, " _Ahn_ ," and oh jesus christ he hadn’t thought this through. A strong blush was spread across Damian's cheeks, working its way to his ears and down his chest. His brows had furrowed just slightly, and his pupils, blown wide from the fear of exposure, had overtaken most of the green irises. 

Their eyes stayed locked, both too prideful to back down. Tim could still see the shifting in Damian's arm that indicated he was moving his 

fingers. Only Tim's body stood between him and the others. 

After what felt like hours but was probably a minute, there was a small _splat_ of liquid hitting the tile floor, and Damian's arm came back around to be held under the spray. 

"Happy now?" through clenched teeth. 

There was no reason for him to not be satisfied. The threat was eliminated, so to speak. So he… returned to his shower head, and turned to face the wall. A variety of fun looking substances was clumping up at the drain, his beautiful, wonderful suit was fully waterlogged, and the others were bitching in the background. Jason was saying something about "Dumb motherfuckers taking their shit childhood out on strangers," which seemed a bit hypocritical, but they all were, so whatever. Steph was describing the panic of her bomb going off only to realize it was a decoy filled with baking powder. Dick and Cass were making appropriate 'listening' noises, but both looked bone tired so they probably were not actually listening. 

Tim was—god, he was _boiling_ . And he wasn't even sure why. It must just be… Well, he and Damian had been spending a lot more time together, and they worked together, so. Were they _friends_ now? He hadn't put any thought to it, but thinking about it now he thought they were. And he _hated_ when his friends hid things from him. But he had worked really, really hard to freak out less when it happened. He hadn’t freaked about his friends sex lives in _years_. Hadn't freaked about their cape lives in at least 7 months. And he was proud of that. And here Damian went, fucking it up. Was it just that he'd gotten used to it with the Bats and the Titans? Was he going to have to train the impulse out of him with every new close friendship? 

The thought only irked him further. Even though he knew he should let it go, when they shuffled out of the showers into clean clothes he found himself following Damian up to the Manor. Outside Damian’s room, he finally spun around to hiss at Tim. “ _What_?” A deep flush still sat across his cheeks.

“Look, Dames, you know I’m just looking out for you right?”

“ _Looking out for me_? Tt.”

He kept his voice low, private. “I am. You’ve got to know what you’re doing is dangerous. You can’t just, just let any guy with a nice cock use your body like that!”

It was immediately clear he’d gone too far. Damian tensed, face going from humiliated to furious. His glare was filled with more malice than Tim had had pointed at him in a long time.

In an equally low, dangerous voice, Damian snapped back, “I don’t sleep with _just any guy_. I have a boyfriend!”

...He had a fucking _what_ now?

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> safdsafdfasd any ideas of who he'll rope into this doomed lie of his? :)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @kittyinshadows_ or tumblr @kittyinshadows  
> Thanks for reading, please lemme know what u think <3


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